Kidnapping, Match-Making, & Everything in Between
by theps118confessional
Summary: Helga Pataki- 26, now settled in almost every sense of the word: a steady job, a kid and a house- kind of, really doesn't think she qualifies as certifiably crazy anymore. That is- until she kidnaps Arnold Shortman's children. By accident. Sort of.
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: hiii all- this is a mix of my take on a really popular fanfiction read by nearly everyone, twilight fan or not, Bella Swan: Kidnapper, by Kambria Rain & all of our favorite gangs. Don't worry- I took **none** of her words, and only one of the children's names. i highly recommend you read it- it's an absolute riot, and won't bear a very similar plot to this at all- beyond the first chapter :) the first chapter is very similar- again, no words taken, just concept, because frankly, it's genius and hilarious. also, she is an extremely gifted writer when it comes to /introductions/ and i admire her a lot on a lot of levels. if you'd like to read hers- i completely recommend it  & like i said- past this chapter they won't be very similar at all. they are different characters, different setting, after all :) i would consider this closer to the equivalent of when a fic writer does a harry potter or a hunger games au, than a rewrite of her work :)_

 _she writes on her ff page- and i would like to cement it here: taking a work and changing names in it is not fic of a fic, it is plagiarism. it's also not cool- don't do it. ok that's enough rant enjoy the fic :))))_

* * *

"Hi, my name is Helga Pataki- and I, really don't know how to say this, but uh, I have your kids with me? I was _kind of_ thinking you might want them back, so, uh, give me a call? Thanks."

Helga Pataki- 25, now settled, in almost every sense of the word, with a steady job, a kid and a house- kind of, really doesn't think she qualifies as certifiably crazy anymore. That is- until she kidnaps Arnold Shortman's children. By accident. Sort of.

* * *

There were fruit roll-ups in my cart. I did not put fruit roll-ups in my cart, nor did I need fruit-roll ups in my home.

I moved the bananas aside to fully asses the situation. There was also a Star Wars lunch box next to the the fruit roll-ups. I squinted at my shrimp- my favorite person alive, but also a shrimp.

"I have a list of things to get too, Mom." He explained with a shrug. "You have a list, I have a list, we both have needs." He said- with astonishing solemnity and comedic timing for a 7 year old boy.

"Where is this list, might I ask?" I asked with a smug smile, leaning on the railing of the shopping cart. The boy- whose name was Luke, grabbed Reese's Puffs off the shelf. The shelf nearly broke. Hillwood- really and truly, was turning to complete shit. Everything was old, everything needed to be rebuilt, no one had the money or time to do it.

It was held together by literal duct tape and metaphorical broken dreams.

I would have gone anywhere else- and maybe I would move Luke somewhere else soon. I wasn't sure. But no one was living in the house my family had there- and no one would buy it as it was, a complete run-down piece of shit. Olga certainly wasn't relocating her family there- and Bob and Miriam…

At any rate, me and my son moved back there, just long enough to do some kind of work to it- enough that it would get sold. It wasn't in a prime spot- or in any kind of condition for selling- but there had to be some money left in it. I just couldn't wait to get the hell out of Hillwood as quickly as possible.

My son tsk-ed at me. I wondered how he became such a smart-ass as he grabbed on to the front of the cart, stepping on it, while motioning for me to keep moving. Then I remembered exactly who's son he was.

"Do you really think a list only becomes a list when it's written on paper?" He asked sadly, tilting his head to the side. "That's kind of small minded, Mom."

I couldn't help it, "Smart-ass," I muttered, shoving the grin down under my face. I liked how clever my son was, just less-so when it was directed towards me.

Something else was directed towards me, his hand. He used one to steady himself on the moving cart, the other to wiggle his fingers at me.

If I could go back and time and do one thing- it would probably be punch myself in the face on the day I invented the swearing rule. The rule was if someone swore- they owed everyone in their presence a dollar. It made me the poorest woman alive. I bucked up anyway- and handed him a crumpled one from my back pocket.

He collected it with grabby hands, and hopped off the front of the cart to walk next to me. He grabbed his other crumpled ones from his pocket, and counted five.

"Can I trade these in for a five?" He held them up to me.

I groaned, and smacked my head on my arms, leaning on my cart. Leave it to my own kid to make me feel like a terrible mother- no child needs an allowance of five dollars a day, no one.

* * *

"Can I have a cake pop?" Luke asked, as he rode on the cart- now on my side. He stood in between me and the cart- while I pushed behind. Seemed like a bad deal for me- but I knew he wouldn't like being this close to me forever.

I pushed us up to the check lanes of the Giant- a weary looking teenager muttering a half hearted greeting.

"Do you have cake pop money?" I asked sarcastically- as I looked at the teen. "Hi- I'm great, how are you?" I asked sympathetically. She didn't answer, but she was looking at Luke.

I looked down at his face- a smug grin on it. I looked down his arm to his hand- where he was holding five crumpled up ones.

"You win this round, Skywalker." I squinted at him.

He giggled- Skywalker was not his name, nor my last name, but it was a nickname that went with his real name. He loved that he was named after a Star Wars character- it put me pretty high up on the Cool Mom list.

"Go get it- I'm watching." I shooed him off my cart, and he ran to wait in line at the Starbucks, another little family in front of him.

"Smart kid." The teenager commented, as I started loading the conveyer belt with groceries- only 40% of them being things we actually needed.

"It's annoying as fuck." I replied honestly, and I was rewarded with the first smile I had gotten from them all day. I was just glad Luke wasn't present- or I'd owe her a dollar.

* * *

Luke reappeared before I had even emptied half the cart.

"That was quick," I commented, still grabbing things to chuck them on the cart.

"Mom, I need you to come here." He said quickly and quietly. I looked up at him, his face looked whiter than it normally did. I looked up at the teen- who was just scanning and bagging, and behind us, where there was no one else in line.

Luke was not a kid who freaked out easily- Luke had had a tough life as it was. I nodded at him, and we power-walked together towards what he had wanted to show me.

The nice family I had seen when Luke had walked up to the Starbucks was…more complicated than I thought it was.

"Ms. Linda-" A boy no larger than Luke was whining, a little girl was holding his hand and hiccuping beside her. "She's only crying because she's hungry- can we please have lunc-"

"Mathew." The woman chastised. We- me and Luke, busied ourselves by the little snack stand, to be less conspicuous. I turned around to glance at the girl checking us out- who was watching us curiously, but the lanes still weren't busy, and she had walked around to pull things from our cart to put on the belt. I could only assume she got the feeling whatever Luke wanted to show me was important, too. "You know we have at least two more stops to make before the party- and we're just short enough on time as it is. I thought you were being a good boy today, why can't you control your sister?"

I glanced at my I-Phone's clock.

It was past four.

I grit my teeth a little, and tried not to look down at Luke's little face looking up at me.

"Could we have something here?" Matthew pleaded- I wanted to bash my face into the stand in front of me.

"It's all full of sugar- and awful for you, you don't want tha-" She was interrupted by a barista, whom didn't call her name, but was giving her a small glare, and read out the drink instead.

"Venti triple no-foam coconut milk skinny mocha latte macchiato." She finished curtly, setting the drink down.

The woman did not thank her for the ridiculous- and also seven-dollar, drink.

"Sophie is riled up enough as it is, Matthew, and she does not need any more suga-"

I looked up, everything in my cart was rung and in bags, and our teenager was staring at us. I grabbed Luke's shoulder, and turned him back towards the check lane.

"Do you think they don't have enough money?" Luke asked quietly and carefully. "I could give them mine."

My heart grew three and a half sizes.

I didn't know what to tell him. I didn't want to say it was none of our business- because I wanted my kid to see the injustice in the world and want to help. I also didn't want to tell him that some people just got shitty parents. I knew that they did- trust me, I knew it. But there wasn't much I could do about it.

"We'll talk about it in the car-" I said decidedly, ruffling his hair. "Sorry about that," I apologized to the girl. She tilted her head at me, indicating she wanted to ask what was wrong, but didn't. I glanced towards the woman marching the kids out of Giant, and back to her, shaking my head. She made a sad face and sighed.

I was glad I didn't have to say anything- I didn't know how I could describe what I just saw without using the word _bitch_.

* * *

We were loading up the car- an SUV I bought myself as my first big treat I could afford. Luke was only grabbing the light stuff- boxes of cereal and the like, but he was useful none the less. I was about to ask him about what he'd like to do for dinner- but I was interrupted by the shatter of glass, and then a crying child. I did a double take- before looking deeper down the row of the cars. Who else was standing there but our favorite family?

"MATTHEW!" The woman looked up from her phone- leaned against the car. The little girl- not any older than four, was sobbing, holding her brother's leg. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

What looked like a mason jar was shattered on the ground. The boy looked like he was shaking- even from my distance, and he was holding a Giant bag with a hole in the bottom.

I grabbed the rest of the bags and threw them haphazardly into my trunk. I reached up high to close it- and only then did I notice my hands were shaking.

"WELL, AREN'T YOU GOING TO PICK IT UP?" She yelled at him.

No. This bitch was not going to make a seven year old pick up broken glass. No.

"Luke, get in the car."

He hesitated, but then did as I told him. I pushed the cart down the row of cars- wincing as I did so, as I hated people who didn't put their cart back, but we had to move fast. I already had a plan formulating in mind.

"Ms. Linda, please-" I heard as I hurried around to the driver's side of the car, Luke situating himself in the backseat on the other side.

"MATTHEW- AREN'T YOU THE MAN OF THE DAY?" Toxic masculinity- perfect, my other favorite thing. I slammed the car door behind me, turning the car on as quickly as possible. I had my phone in one hand, keys in the other. I was going to get a picture of this bitch's license plate and call the _police_. Or child-protective services. Or something, I wasn't sure yet. I rolled down the window, while simultaneously pulling out. I missed whatever she said because the window was shut- but I caught the end of her sentence. "And really, you both should start working on calling me _Mom_."

I quickly pulled up the line of cars, slowing down as we pulled up to their so I could get a picture. The woman had a vice-like grip on the little boy's arm, leaned down over the glass. "And for God's sake," I kept my car moving slowly so she wouldn't notice- and tried to will my hand to stop fucking shaking enough to get a picture. "Would you stop _crying_?" She yelled at the little girl, hand gripping tighter on the boy's arm. She raised her hand up, like she was going to _hit_ her- and I gasped.

I heard a car door open.

I slammed on the brakes.

I panicked, because it wasn't them who opened a door, and I looked back at Luke who _did_ , unbuckled, and scooting across the seats of the back to get to my side.

"GET IN!" He shouted at the kids.

That was my kid alright. My brave, stupid, kid. The woman looked dumb-founded in between Luke and then me, dropping her hand on the kid, mouth falling open with disgust.

"Who are you and what do you- WHAT ARE YO-" She started to scream, and I looked back, and to my astonishment, the little boy had pushed the little girl up, hands on her bottom, as she climbed into my car. Luke reached a hand down to the boy, Matt,- as it was a high jump and the step-stool wasn't down. The boy grabbed it and leaped athletically into my car. The bitch- _Linda_ , or _whatever_ , took two angry steps forward- before sliding on the broken glass and falling straight backwards. The little girl clambered on to a seat, Luke fiddling with his seat belt in his new seat behind me.

Matt slammed the door shut.

"MOM- DRIVE!" Luke shouted.

I knew it was stupid- a mistake, and beyond illegal- but my foot slammed on the gas anyway.

Her screaming behind us was almost worth it.

* * *

We were only driving out of the parking lot- me making an illegal left turn, for maybe 30 seconds, before Luke dived in.

"My name is Luke Pataki, my mom named me after Star Wars- that's my mom, she kidnapped you kind of-" He pointed at me, what an introduction- "Does Sophie need help with her seat belt?"

"Sophie normally sits in a car seat-" Matthew answered. Car-seat, I thought, _shit_. I slowed down my speed. "My name is Matt. Matt Shortman. My favorite Star Wars guy is Han Solo. That lady back there was _not_ my mom. Do you guys have any snacks?" Sophie was sniffling.

My heart ached.

"My mom wasn't cool enough to name me Han," Luke commented as he sat up, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a broken, pink, cake pop, in a piece of crumpled-up paper.

"Do you think she'd like this?"

I knew he had bought it with swear-money, but goddamnit if that moment didn't make me feel like Mother of the Year. Even though he called me not-cool.

"Hey Matt-" I said, looking up at my rear view, "you said she wasn't your mom. Do you know your parent's phone number? They're going to be... _worried_."

"I memorized my dad's in Kindergarten class! But I'm going to be a second grader this year."

"No way!" Luke enthused, "Me too! Anyway- my favorite part of Star Wars was 'Luke- I am your father,' so I like Luke." he faked the deep voice.

"I like the part where Vader _melted_."

"THAT WAS AWESOM-"

"Boys." I interrupted again, as much as I was enjoying the discussion. "Matt- could you tell me your Dad's number-" I pulled into a Dairy Queen parking lot so I could grab my phone to call him, and maybe some snacks for the kids from the groceries. I parked and turned around, and waved a little finger at the tiny blonde girl in the middle. Who yawned in response, but it was cute nonetheless.

Luke and Matt put a hold on the convo long enough for Matt to prattle off a phone number to me. I put a finger to my lips so they knew to be quiet as it rang, pressing the phone to my ear- next to my hair which was piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I looked down, my green long sleeved t-shirt and leggings were quite the kidnapping look.

"Hello," I got an automated voice "you've reached 610-23-" I stopped listening, trying to formulate exactly what I was about to say.

"Hi, my name is Helga Pataki- and I, really don't know how to say this, but uh, I have your kids with me? I was _kind of_ thinking you might want them back, so, uh, give me a call? Thanks."

Well, that wasn't going to win me a Pulitzer prize, but it would have to do.

"I hope I had the right number," I said as I hung up the phone.

Matt nodded confidently. "You did." He replied.

"I forgot to ask you for your Dad's name-" I mused quietly, frowning at my phone as I hoped it would ring again. "What is it, do you know?" I hoped the kid knew- otherwise i had even more concern for this family.

"Arnold!"

I dropped my phone- it fell down in between my seat and the console. "What did you say your last name was, again?"

"Shortman."

Fuck.

Sophie gasped, climbing over her brother, to look out the window, at the Dairy Queen sign, "We getting ice cream?" She asked delightedly in what I used to call Tiny Human English.

The kids were already unbuckling.

I hated my life.

* * *

 _a/n don't kidnap children... it will not reunite u w/ the one that got away. i know i write ridiculous cracky stuff but i admit htis is extra lol hope ur buckled up for the ride! let me know what u think of our newest adventure, lol._

 _xx. k._


	2. Chapter 2

If I bought the kids ice-cream then, by my Mom Mathematician Skills, which everyone just seemed to randomly acquire when handed a child, that would buy me at least 12 and 1/2 minutes of time for them to eat and at least that would be 12 and 1/2 more minutes in which I wasn't _arrested_.

I accepted that as a good deal, and helped them out of the car. I never got tired of helping tiny legs out of oversized things. The boys rejected my help, but used the step stool. The girl however- Sophie, entirely darling, and after I had a moment to take a look at her, entirely Arnold's, let me help her down from the car. I made a funny noise- and Matt held her hand once she was on the ground. She giggled. Her hair looked like it might one day be curly- but it wasn't there yet. It was a sharp blonde, though, like Arnold's was. She even had the green eyes. Even…quite the head on her. The full Arnold package.

The other one, Matt, looked just about as much like Arnold as Luke looked like me- i.e. not very. He had sandy brown hair- lighter than Luke's, and brown eyes. All Luke got out of me was eyes- the dark hair and the freckles weren't a Pataki trademark.

Lifting Sophie and making a dumb airplane noise made me long, for only a moment, for when Luke was that age.

Which I quickly got over- because coherent-sentence Luke was _great_.

Also- kind of, three year olds were super heavy.

The kids managed to make the conversation flow with chatter- which was excellent, because it hid well that I was _freaking the fuck out_.

On the inside- of course.

I mean, I managed to focus long enough to get myself a peanut butter milkshake- but peanut butter milkshakes are gifts from God not to be trifled with.

Then I promptly resumed _freaking the fuck out_.

With a little luck, I wouldn't be in jail by the end of the day! And with a lot of luck, me and Luke would be _at least_ six hundred miles away. We could move to New York! Or Sydney! Or literally anywhere that wasn't fucking Hillwood!

"Mom," Why is it that children never realize when adults are having a Moment and almost strategically ruin them, "Matt wants to see my lego collection, can he come over later?"

"What?" I said, dazed, because at that exact moment I was wondering how much changing my and my child's name and starting a new life in Hyvinkää, Finland would run me and whether or not Olga would lend me it. "Yea- sure." I answered, even though I hadn't properly listened.

The child could have asked me for a mini pony & a matching fire hoop for me to train the mini pony to jump through and I probably would have said yes- I was that distracted. Actually, I might have said yes because that sounded super fucking awesome- we could name it Rufus.

The children were speaking to me- god, I couldn't listen for shit.

I had apparently never attended parenting lesson number one: never make a child a promise you can't keep… they're little elephants. They will never forget it, and if you don't do it, it could very well end up on your tomb stone.

Here Lies Helga: Beloved Mother, Sister, Friend, and LIAR WHO DIDN'T GET LUKE A MINI PONY.

The children- stickier than they were the last time I took a moment to look at them- were staring at me expectantly.

Fuck. I still wasn't listening.

"Sorry- Luke, did you ask me something?"

"Can we go camping sometime? Matt does it with his Dad!"

Honestly…could Arnold, even adult Arnold whom I hadn't seen in six years, just like…fuck off? OF COURSE- he's the dad who takes his kids camping on the weekends. He probably doesn't have to hand them an I-Pad so they shut up for a half hour… they read Anne of Green Gables. They probably eat organic food. And wear fair trade clothing.

At least he still had shitty taste in women.

HA-HA, _Arnold_ , check-mate.

"Well…" Luke and Matt's tiny faces were so hopeful I couldn't put the slam-dunk, shut-down, _no_ on the table the way I wanted to. "We'll see, boys." I could do wishy-washy for now. For now. This shit better not land me in a sleeping bag. Nothing good ever starts, nor ends, with sleeping bags.

Luke's face lit up, and I sighed, and Matt was launching into how they fish- and Luke looked…excited, for the first time since they got to Hillwood.

He had been a trooper, but he hadn't wanted to come- and I knew it. He left all of his first grade friends behind, and his school, and his teachers, and swim team. I knew that- so seeing his tiny face excited made my heart flutter. It just might have fluttered more had the circumstances been literally anything else.

I would've taken Rufus & the fire ring over this.

But then he laughed and helped Sophie clean up her hands with some napkins I had put on the table.

And maybe, just maybe, I would've taken a few nights in a sleeping bag.

Unless I went to jail.

Shit, I had forgotten about that.

Yeah…I thought to myself that sleeping bag trumps _jail_ anytime.

* * *

I sent them to wash their hands, but mostly to buy myself another few moments of time. I didn't know what to do with them now. I checked my phone obsessively- but with nary a response from Arnold. I figured it was time to call a lose and lose and call the police and…turn myself in, which sounded asinine as a concept, but was about the only thing I could think of- but the boys were calling me from down the hall because Sophie couldn't reach the sink. It was frankly adorable, and she let me lift her up so she could wash her hands. I was going to set her down immediately after, but she pulled down a paper towel and then reached for my neck- so I let her attach herself to me, settling her on my hip.

"Can we go home and show Matt my lego collection now?" Luke asked eagerly as we walked back through the lobby of the Dairy Queen. I didn't know how to answer that- I vaguely remembered telling him we could do that at some point- because I was a fucking idiot.

"Hold hands, boys, we're going into the parking lot." I commanded instead as I opened the door. Matt held out his hand to be held, but Luke groaned.

"Moooooom-" He whined, "we're too old for that."

"Are you too old to be squished?" I snapped back quickly. "How about you take on that truck?" I pointed with my non-Sophie hand to a pick up in a lot across the street.

Luke blanched. "You know, on second thought, I reviewed the idea and decided I don't mind." He grabbed Matt's hand, and then mine.

"Good," I told him with a smile, and then to myself "that's what I thought."

"Mom, stop talking to yourself."

"You know, I tried that once," I looked both ways several times- despite it being a parking lot the size of my pinky finger. "Didn't work out well." We crossed hesitantly.

"Wow- I'm surprised." Luke enthused to his friend- Matt tried not to look amused.

I shot him a flat look. He just giggled at me- and in truth, I giggled back.

But then we had reached a car with no actual destination in sight.

"After we go back to your house- can we go to mine? I can show you my tent!" Matt helped Sophie buckle in across the belly- I froze from putting away the step-stool.

"Matt," I questioned carefully, trying not to sound terribly eager, "do you know your home address?"

"Yes. We memorized it in kindergarten! But I'm a second grader." Yea- kid, I was one too, calm down, its not the accomplishment of the century.

I laughed as I pulled out my phone- still parked in the lot. "Can you tell me it?"

Bingo. Jackpot. An address- and a little green street map telling me how to get there. All I had to do was tell Luke and Matt that we would go to our house later- and that we should visit Matt's first.

Little white lies never hurt anyone.

All I could hope was that Arnold wasn't too pissed, or me, Luke, and Rufus had plans in Hyvinkää for the evening.

* * *

I remembered vaguely something about a party as we pulled up to the house- which was something of a house- it had a yard, sort of, which was rare in Hillwood. It was just a hair's width in between what was the city and wasn't. The shutters needed painted.

But back to the problem at hand- if I had remembered even ten seconds earlier that there was something about a party that came out of Linda's mouth- I would have turned around and told Sophie and Matt their house had burned down or something. Okay- maybe I wouldn't have done that, but I probably would have turned around.

There was no parking at the Shortman house- because the street was lined with cars. There were balloons on the mailbox.

There was also a police car.

Great.

When I got the kids out of the car- Sophie was nodded off in the back seat, and she did the grabby hands thing when I set her on the ground.

Double great.

I picked her up.

It was only when we were walking up to the house- Luke and Matt leading the way, me and Sophie picking up the rear- that I remembered my attire.

Leggings, a t-shirt & a messy bun for likely what was a high school reunion happening moments away- not to mention while returning someone's kids.

What an excellent way to not scream "I'm a Sociopath! Take my kid away from me!"

…yeah.

Before I could even raise my non-Sophie hand to knock, Matt had flung open his front door, and held it wide. He was being polite, but all it did was put a spotlight on me like a beacon.

Here she is: the psychopath who stole Arnold's children and didn't accept any of your facebook friend requests, in the flesh!

Helga Pataki.

And of course, the first person who made eye contact with me was none other than that hell-on-wheels bitch, Linda.

She was sitting in an arm-chair, being comforted by someone, and talking to a police officer, who had his back turned to me. Her tears were convincing. I did find it fascinating that she had enough to lose the children, have an emotional breakdown, get the remaining mason jars home, she was drinking out of one, and change her outfit all before we arrived.

She did have frankly amazing hair- all brown and swooped away from her face.

I hated her.

"It's her!" She flung out a dramatic finger, "IT WAS HER, OFFICER!"

Hold the dramatics, Soap Opera, I brought them back.

Matt had already run inside- but he had taken Luke by the arm, and raced them up the stairs.

"Hi dad!" I heard him shout cheerily in passing.

"Matt?" I heard Arnold's voice. "MATT- ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" He sounded so panicked.

"Yeah dad, _duh_." Matt was already out of view.

 _Shit_.

"How dare you put your hands on her?" Someone new was yelling at me- great, it felt just like childhood. I assumed she meant Sophie- but I didn't exactly know what to do. I couldn't just drop her like a twice baked potato, and no one seemed to volunteer to come forward and take her from me. She tucked her face into my chest- probably wasn't a fan of the yelling, poor darling.

"You have a lot of nerve." I didn't recognize the face yelling at me, and now walking forward to take Sophie away. She had on this really kind of heinous cross between a cardigan and a jean jacket. It was terrifying- which is probably why Sophie clutched to my arm tighter as she reached for her. There are women you can take one look at and know that they will not raise their issues with you, but ask to see your manager instead. It was like I knew her, but I didn't _actually_. Which was good, because as much as the whole thing sucked, it probably would have sucked more if it were like…Rhonda…or someone. I actually still hadn't seen Arnold, the angle of it all wrong, he was probably tucked right out of my view point. I recognized his parents in the corner of the room. I wondered if they recognized me. I also wondered if this was just what Arnold's life was now, shitty mason jar parties with ask to see the manager style _women_.

"What do you want me to do, Arnold?" I heard the cop say- and funnily enough, I thought I recognized the voice- but I was distracted by a voice I definitely knew walking through what I could only assume was the kitchen. The other, non-cop, voice, was distinguishable enough that I knew it instantaneously. It also made me want to run for my car like an antelope or something, but my kid was still in the house. All of my stranger-danger messages seemingly had done nothing for my son.

"HEY Y'ALL-" The voice called as it took it's time showing a face attached, swinging through "WHY ON EARTH DID IT GET SO QUIET OUT HE-"

It was Gerald. He was only a little taller than he was in high school, but more built, and he had on blue oven mitts with…I think they were ducks? It was hard to see from a distance. He was holding a tray of pizza bagels.

Nothing to make an awkward situation worse than pizza bagels.

Actually- that was a lie, pizza bagels are delicious.

"HELGA G. PATAKI?! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" He yelled, and accidentally dropped the pizza bagels.

I probably frowned, what a waste of pizza bagels. There was another smash of noise in the corner.

"Well…I accidentally took Arnold's kids, but now I've brought them back," I said squarely from the outside of the house. You couldn't pay me- in money or in _blood_ , to go in. "I'd just like to collect my kid and go."

Oh- and there it was, Arnold's face directly in front of my face.

It was a good face.

A rush of memories came back- about obsessing over it.

It was a good face- but it wasn't that good, I could admit that now.

"Helga?" He asked quietly, alarmed. "What are you- where did you- why are you…. _what_?"

Arnold did confused better than anyone. His hair was ruffled. He was probably really _really_ worried. I would have lost my mind if it were Luke.

"Officer, go ahead and arrest her," I heard Linda say. I was a little busy taking in the face still…time looked good on Arnold.

"Arnold?" The officer questio- and holy shit, it was Harold. He barely changed a dime- round and kind of tall and looking a bit like a lunk in an officer's uniform. Like one of the rhino cops from Zootopia- that new movie I took Luke to see despite being kind of worried it would make him a furry. I left wondering if I was a furry.

Maybe we're all furries and no one talks about it.

I probably shouldn't call people rhinos- even in my consciousness. Those are bad thoughts to have around Luke. They say bullying starts at home.

Arnold was looking distraught, in between me and Linda. I wondered if I missed any action when I was thinking about furries.

"Arnold." There was a girl sitting on the top of the steps, with Matt and _my_ son- and what do you know it, it's goddamn Lila. Of course it is. She's still beautiful- her hair is long. "Can I speak with you privately?" Her face was unattractively red. She was very protectively holding Matt's hand.

I blinked- what if Arnold and Lila were married?

What if all of my fourth grade nightmares were realized in that exact moment and to make it all worse- all the fucking pizza bagels were on the ground.

I glanced down to Arnold's left hand.

No ring.

I started to breathe a sigh of relief- before stopping myself, because, goddammit, Helga, could we stick to one psychotic thing a day, please?

Arnold seemed to glance around the room- all eyes on him, before breathing a bit while he said "Yeah. Okay. Where's my Sophie?"

That was _adorable_. And it got _more_ adorable when the lady who snatched her from me handed her to him- and she curled in.

I was trying to send Luke a hand signal that said 'get your ass down those stairs so we can get the hell out of here'- I'd have paid the two dollars and all, when Harold had a hand on my arm.

"You're not going anywhere-" He said as menacingly as _Harold_ can. Or, as I now called him in my mind, Mr. Rhino Cop Man.

Alright- that one was rough, not my best work.

I knew I had something to say there- something about being detained and rights and what-not but frankly I had never planned on being arrested, so the joke was on me for not knowing my basic human rights.

Linda was skulking in a corner with a few friends staring moodily at me. I wondered what party of hers I ruined. It involved mason jars. It was probably shitty.

I looked up at Arnold and Lila's red face. The boys, to my surprise, were speaking. I realized- oh my god, they totally ratted out Linda. Arnold was surveying the scene- clearly making a plan, because the boy, man, _whatever_ \- was clearly not one for causing scenes in public. He glanced to Gerald- and man, they were obviously still best friends, because Gerald was clearing the room of everyone but Arnold, Lila, Harold, Linda, myself, and the boys- with mentions of music on the patio. And little Sophie- who was sleeping on her father.

Arnold was walking down the steps with purpose- the Business Man walk.

"I don't know-" He started before he even reached her, "what business you felt you had, putting your hands on my child." And I could praise the Lord- he wasn't talking to me.

"Arnold, I-" Linda started, but he held up a hand.

"I'm going to ask you to leave." He seemed… _royally_ pissed off. "Please, don't make this harder than it is."

If my kid were with me, it would have been a great time to do the Hey-You're-Not-Arresting-Me-Today!nod to Rhino Co- _Harold_ , and we'd be out the door already. But he was up the stairs still- and I was standing there for this awkward moment. I counted the swirls in his some-what ugly brown carpet.

"I would neve-"

"Linda."

I only counted 27 when she starting tearing up... I tried not to smirk. She had her coat, and her bag in a matter of seconds- why a coat, I had no idea, it was _June_ , and she literally pushed her way past me & was out the door. Arnold turned around to quietly thank Harold for his time.

Matt sniffed into his hand. Luke wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Sophie snored.

"Hey, Luke-" There was never going to be a good time to escape, so I might as well have gone with a pretty straight up Bad one, "come on buddy- let's go."

"Come on, Matt, we didn't see my lego collection yet!" He grabbed Matt's arm- obviously trying to distract his friend, and tried to yank him down the stairs.

"Wait, Luke, I-" I took my first steps inside the house. It was small, and dingy, but it was warm, and it looked like it was hot glued together with the up-most love.

"I also hear we're taking them camping?" Arnold asked with bemusement, walking over to me. I could have hit his cute…dumb, annoying, whatever, giant head. Shit. I should have never stepped inside

"I never said yes to camping- I said a hard maybe to the camping."

"A hard maybe?" He was squinting at me. He seemed really amused...it was annoying _and_ sexy. Which was just more annoying, in the end. My bun was falling out. I was going to kill Luke later for running into a stranger's house.

"The ONLY thing," I said defensively, "I said yes to was the legos and the mini pony."

"…the mini pony?" He straight-up laughed.

"Wait, shit, no-" It was out of my mouth before I even knew the word was on my tongue, and I gasped. Two little hands shot in the air. I looked down at Matt and Luke, beaming.

Traitors.

Sophie, looked up blearily, and blinked, staring at the boys. She then also held her hand out for a dollar.

Another traitor.

"That's," Luke counted the people in the room, there were six, not including me, "six dollars, mom! Wow. Big spender." He joked.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Matt tugged on his dad's sleeve. "If you say a swear- you owe everyone else a dollar."

" _When_ did you have time to tell them that, Luke?" I was exasperated, but I got the change for the twenty I gave the girl at Dairy Queen out of my pocket.

Arnold was too busy shaking his head at Luke, and he looked up at me. "He seems familiar."

I smirked at him, "does he now?"

Arnold wrinkled his nose up with amusement, "a little bit- yeah." I grabbed his free hand, and slapped five ones into it. But then I didn't drop it, so we were just standing there, smirking and holding our hands with crumpled money in between us. It was probably weirder than it felt at the moment.

Lila had snuck down the stairs and out the back at some point- and then she had returned. With company.

"HELGA G PATAKI!" Gerald enthused as he swaggered into the room- sans oven mitts. Which was a shame- they were a good look for him. I dropped Arnold's hand. "I hear you're not _that_ crazy- _cool_. Tell me you're stayin'! You have GOT to fill us in!"

I got…inexplicably nervous. Who knew how many people I knew on the other side of that door?

I could admit it- I panicked.

"Maybe another time, come on Luke- say bye to Matt, let's go."

"But Mom-"

"Luke."

"Okay…" He said his goodbyes to Matt and Sophie, waved bye to Arnold and Lila and Gerald, and we walked straight out of his door, and out of their life for a second time. This time, I let them watch me go. It was all-too generous of me, I know.

"Can I still have my dollar?" Was the first thing Luke said on the other side.

I laughed.

"And don't worry, I'm not mad at you because Matt can't come right now. I gave the nice lady with the pretty red hair your phone number, anyway."

I could have killed him.

* * *

 _a/n thanks for indulging me everyone :) i'm having way way way tooo much fun here, hoping ur having a little bit with me. im not sure who from the original crew i want to feature in this one, let me know your thoughts!_

 _also if you left a review on the last chatper...thank you so so much. i say this on all my fics but ill say it here again, socialization is kind of hard for me, and i am really not good at responding individually. but i try & i want to thank you. it really encourages me and makes me v happy & youre all too cute & kind. love u all._

 _xx k._


	3. Chapter 3

There was no rest for the guilty, the wicked, or Helga Pataki, apparently, because I was literally hiding in my bathroom from my child.

"Mom," He had his face, if not on the door, very close to it. "Mom."

If I made no sounds, maybe he would think I died…

That was probably a little fucked up, but he was probably already a little fucked up.

Patakis, eh? What can you do about it?

"Mom, I know you're in there."

I was sitting in the shower with my laptop open on my lap. Which was an adept place to keep a laptop. I was just trying to squeeze in a few hours of work- as I did have a deadline to meet, which mattered very little in Kid World, but a whole lot in Adult World. "Deadline" as a word, had no weight to children, just like "lifestyle" and "cabernet" and "taxes."

"Mom moved."

Luke didn't respond for a moment, I heard a gentle thud as he set his head on the door.

"Oh, okay. You know, I was always thinking that this wall would look cool with a rocket-ship on it, so maybe I'll just…"

The door clicked open before he could even finish the sentence. I was giving him a murderous grin, laptop shut, and tucked under my arm.

"You win this round, Skywalker."

"Mom," He said as we walked down the dingy hall to our kitchen, "do you ever count how many rounds I win and you lose?" Our wallpaper probably could have been improved by a rocket ship… Our wallpaper was goddamn awful, who in the hell let Miriam decorate…anything? Purple stripes with flowers was bad enough when it was young, but now it was peeling and decrepit. Which multiplied it's awful by like… at least six years full of painful childhood memories.

"No." I answered plainly, setting the computer on the cracked brown counter top. I swung around to check out our refrigerator- which I was worried about keeping things properly cold. My list of things to fix grew by the day. I was beginning to think I should just take the wash and call it a loss, and sell it for dirt cheap to some hipsters who love "authentically raw" city life.

"That's probably for the best," He shrugged, hopping up to sit on one of the stools by the counter. "I wouldn't want you to feel sad."

"Luke," I set my water bottle, and then my hands on the counter. I chose to change the subject and ignore his smart-ass-ism, but I did think blithely that I should probably do something about that eventually before he turned into a regular Me, "what do you think in this house is ugly?"

He stared around "did you want the truth?"

I nodded.

"Everything."

That's what I should have expected. I groaned, setting my chin in my palm. "I agree, buddy," I looked at the light fixture that looked like it was one good gust of wind and/or toddler blowing out a birthday candle away from completely falling out. "I just don't know what to do about it."

"You should fix it!" He enthused, eyes sparkling. I admired his spunky enthusiasm. He must have gotten that from some kind hardwiring in Olga's genes that I never got. I never had it.

"Yes, well, that will take time," I unscrewed the water bottle I had gotten out of the fridge, taking a swig.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to be there when Luke started school in August. I didn't know where exactly I was going to take him instead, but there were towns, other than San Francisco, where I went to college and definitely did not want to stay, and Hillwood. I thought that most people either live in the town they went to college in or their hometown just out of safety. There were other places to be, places that would be good for us, places where I wouldn't be on the PTA with Lila. Or anyone from that party two weeks ago.

"We have time," He insisted, "we also have hands." He held his out, as if I wasn't aware we had hands. Which was adorable.

"We have brains in our heads, and feet in our shoes." I added to myself quietly- all pondering-like, which I definitely used to pull off better in college, but that was beside the point.

"Is that that weird poetry stuff you like, again, Mom?" He shook his head, like _he_ was exasperated with _me_ , the little _brat_ , and hopped off the stool. "I'm gonna get my jacket." He ran up the stairs.

What kind of child I raised that didn't like Dr. Suess, was an enigma to me and also an outrage.

* * *

Home Depot had so much wood. I didn't have any idea how many different kinds of wood there was. I mean, I knew there were different kinds of trees- identifiable by their leafiness… and the like.

There were probably people who dedicated their lives to knowing about trees, as we passed by the fourth straight aisle of just wood, I prayed for their souls.

"Do we need wood?" Luke asked as he walked along side my cart, which I got so I felt like I looked like I had a purpose.

"I don't know. Probably?" I answered.

He nodded.

Glad he could accept that as an answer.

Paint chips were the height of all things available for free in consumer stores. That and the free samples of chips at Costco. They were just the best for indistinguishable reasons. There wasn't really anything to do with them, you just looked at them, but for some reason…I wanted all of them. I could build Luke a castle, a _Castle of Paint Chips_. We could name it Painterly…or Chip's Dale…or frankly, something a little more creative once I had a coffee.

"What colors do you like, babe?" I asked, leaning down to him, cart abandoned.

He picked up a bright-ass orange card, which is why children aren't allowed to make decisions ever.

* * *

I had ten shades in my left hand and a pamphlet on painting to sell in my right, and my child was trying to tell me beige was not different from tan, which is ludicrous and now I was worried that my kid was color blind, when someone was calling my name. " _Helga Pataki_ \- is that _you_?"

I didn't, in that moment, exactly know who knew my name in that Home Depot, but it was Hillwood, and there was roughly one person I was interested in talking to in Hillwood, and I was already standing with him.

Luke seemed to catch onto my vibe, and we both stood perfectly still. "No sudden movements," I muttered to him. "If we act like we didn't hear, they won't think it's us."

He didn't nod- because he listened, and goddammit- he was a smart kid.

"Helga- _HELGA PATAKI_!" The voice was getting louder and nearer and more filled with intent.

"GET DOWN!" I whisper-shouted to my son, and we dropped like army men, paint-chips be damned.

I watched them flutter to the floor- goodbye, fallen comrades, we'll meet again.

Luke was already crawling up the aisle- I followed behind him dutifully. "Go for lights, it's a goddamn maze in there!" I whisper-shouted at him again.

"You owe me a dollar!" He whisper-shouted back. I thought that there should be a better word for whisper-shouting than just spelling it out like that. I should have invented one. Like… whouting… or shispers… or frankly, something more creative once I had a coffee.

I had nearly cleared the aisle, Luke making a hard left- when the game was lost.

"Helga- are you _really_ still playing these games?" Someone called at me from the end of the aisle.

I stopped dead in my tracks because I knew the voice. I whistled for Luke to stop, flipping over so I was crouched crab-style, grinning like a mad-man from the floor.

"Well, you know me, Pheebs-" I squinted at her, "life is a game and I-"

"Intend to win." Phoebe finished for me, with a smile. "I do know you, Helga."

I stood up to my whole height. "Hey- squirt, come here!" Luke came back around the corner, I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into me tightly. I was glad he put on a shirt that was cute today- white with gray baseball sleeves. Like a tiny Troy Bolton, minus the bearing any resemblance to Zac Efron bit. "Bud, meet my best friend from high school. Phoebe…meet my best friend from…now."

"My name is Luke." He held out his hand.

Phoebe shook it, "God, Helga, I thought you were kidding."

"She wasn't." He nodded.

He heard that a lot, relatives, college friends. He got used to it.

"Nice to meet you, young man." She shook his hand firmly, giggling a little at my tiny already business man. I don't know why she was surprised- he was a dead ringer for me at that age. "I thought you were kidding about a lot of things," Phoebe frowned. "I always stand corrected with you." She looked at me, I could see the questions forming behind her corneas. 'Why did you abandon hillwood?' 'Why did you avoid all contact with any of us for eight years- to give up and move back here?' 'Why did you buy a junior prom ticket to show up, purposefully spill something on rhonda, light a small fire, and then leave? Was that even worth the money?' Probably all good questions- none of which I wanted to answer.

"Well," I pulled Luke in, setting my other hand on my hip, "I am _not_ drunk enough for this conversation. It was great to see you, Phoebe, really, your hair looks phenomenal," I realized in that moment how I really, really needed to shower, not that I wasn't suited to the 3 day old braid look, "keep in touch, best of luck, all that- haha," I tried to walk past her- but her bastardly, tiny, arm flung out to stop us from parading past.

"Not so fast." She countered quickly. " _At least_ give me a phone number, Helga, I want to catch up. You said you were never coming back to Hillwood!"

"Wait a minutes," I turned, lowering my gaze at her. "Why are _you_ in Hillwood?"

She blinked at me. "Helga, it's fourth of July weekend. I'm buying my father a grill as a gift!"

Holy shit, was it really? Damn, time moved like a bird that moved really fast. That was an awful metaphor. I really wanted coffee.

"Good kid, you are. Moving a giant grill by yourself? Classic Phoebe," I told Luke, as a wink-nudge kind of gesture, but he was gone from my side. "Goddamnit, where is my kid?" I turned around myself in a circle.

He was a few feet away from us, down the aisle.

"That's two dollars, mom."

I bucked up, and gave Phoebe a dollar, "please don't ask." I muttered at her. Luke re-joined us with a smug grin.

"Don't worry, I'm not by myself-" Phoebe giggled, "I brought-"

Whatever the end to the sentence was, I wasn't particularly interested in hearing it. From the giggling, I could gather it was either someone I knew it was either some I knew which- ew, for obvious reasons, a boyfriend, or worse, husband, which I didn't need to remind me of my own failure of a love life, or something cool…like a robot with people arms and opposable thumbs. I almost let the conversation continue, due to the possibility of a robot, but I opted to cut it off.

"Hey, Pheebs, you on FaceBook? I am- Helga G. Pataki, add me! But we really gotta get running, kick the hay, as the kids say" kids didn't say that. Kids never said that. I had no idea where I pulled that out from. "We have to get this sink, before they all go! You know," She was blinking at me, "Those 4th of July traditions, like…putting in new sinks, and fireworks, and that fun jazz. So, we'll see you around." I turned Luke around, and we walked off in the other direction.

"Mom?" he asked.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Can I have my two dollars?"

"You only love me for my small bills," I grumbled, while I dug around in my pocket. "I'm out of cash, ask me later."

"Not true," he protested, referring to the love thing. Which was cute, admittedly. But I really was out of cash. "Are we really getting a sink?"

"Of course we are, Luke," we walked around another corner, "It's bad to lie."

"I don't think lying and then doing the thing you lied about counts as not lying, Mom."

I hoped Phoebe's helper wasn't a robot with cool hands, I probably would have traded him for my son.

* * *

It turned out that you can't just up and buy a sink from Home Depot. You need measurements and a plumber and that kind of shizz, so that found me, two days later, in my bathroom, with a measuring tape I bought at Target shaped like a hippo. Did it need to be hippo shaped? Absolutely not. Was I enjoying it slightly more because of it? Yes.

I had my foot propped up against the counter because it felt like it made sense in the moment, the door shut so I had the maximum amount of space in the small bathroom. Luke was sitting just outside, listening to the numbers I shouted at him to write down through the paper thin walls.

I was deciding whether or not it was a fourth an inch or an eighth an inch when my sock clad foot slid, and I fell backwards, smack-dab directly into the door handle.

Which, because it was a piece of shit, promptly fell off.

And I was on the floor- with a door knob sized bruise already forming on my hip.

"Mom, are you okay?"

I restrained myself from swearing because it had been two whole days since the twerp had gotten cash from me and I wasn't prepared to give up yet.

"Yeah, bud, I'm okay." I said tiredly. I reached up to grab the handle- then remembered it wasn't there, because it was sitting next to me.

"Uh, Luke?" I asked timidly, "can you push the door open?" I grabbed the sink to pull myself up.

The door rattled on it's hinges. "It won't budge."

Shit.

"We'll have to break it down." He said determinedly- I could just picture him rolling up his tiny sleeves on the other side of the door.

"Luke, no." I rubbed my hand on my face. "Run downstairs and grab my phone off the counter, will ya?"

As I heard his tiny footsteps flee- I wondered how I was supposed to say that in Legal Mom talk. 'hurry to the kitchen and get mommy's phone of the counter, okay, sweetie?' sounded about right in my head. I couldn't bring myself to refer to me as mommy, something about it was just weird.

His tiny footsteps were running back up, so I didn't get to finish that weird monologue of thought.

"Will it fit under the door?" He asked, then tested that theory- which proved quickly to not be a viable plan. "Okay, who do you want me to call? Aunt Olga? Grandma, Grandpa?"

"They're all miles and miles away," I said tiredly. "Okay, see the little square that looks like a compass, Luk-"

"Who are these numbers?" He was looking at my calls page, which had two recently missed calls from Hillwood numbers, but not ones I had in my phone.

"I don't know, bud-" Which was half a lie, because one of them I knew was Lila- she left a message. The other I actually didn't know. "Okay, are you on the main screen? You want the app that looks like a compa-"

His tiny steps were walking away. "Luke, where are you goin- Luke!?" I pounded my hands on the door, "What are you doing?" I hollered at him. I didn't get a response, and grumbled to myself, while sitting on the counter that had just betrayed me. Goddamn plastic. Goddamn sock. Goddamn kid that I didn't really raise to listen to me.

"Lila says Arnold will be here in a half hour to help get you out." He said plainly.

I glanced at the window, and even though I knew it was on the second story, I genuinely considered throwing myself out of it.

"Do you want me to read you some of my treehouse book while we wait? It'll be like a reverse bedtime!"

I didn't jump out of the window…but only because I wanted to know exactly what mischief these goddamn ten year olds were gonna get into at the pyramids, and that reason _only_.

* * *

 _a/n ... i have no excuses. ajfkld;akdslf i m having fun, hope u are too. let me know what u think about phoebe...i have many Thoughts about what she did after high school. thank u times a large number if u left a prior review, u r my peopliest people and i love u a lot._

 _i make no promises that this will get any less ridiculous._

 _xx. k._


	4. Chapter 4

"So," Arnold mused as he fiddled with his little screw driver. I watched it jiggle in the handle. Luke had let him in and led him up just a few moments prior. I could feel his smugness through the door. I should have sent Luke to find a rando instead of this. Damn kid. Damn I-Phone. "do you often lose fights to doors?"

I wanted, so badly, to tell him to fuck off. But I knew Luke was probably sitting beside him on the other side of the door.

"Shove off, Arnold."

He laughed. He probably looked good while doing it, I could almost picture it. I could also almost picture pushing him down the stairs. Fascinating combination of thoughts I had there.

"I could've climbed out the window," I reminded him. I could practically see his disapproving face through the door. It was strange, how perfectly I could picture his expressions, with him being seven years removed from my life. I tried not to think about it.

"But you didn't." He wiggled the thing again. I thought for a moment he was prolonging this on purpose. "Maybe you would have when we were in high school, but you didn't this time."

"But I could have."

"But you didn't." He probably had his dumb tongue out in concentration. He was annoying. "I'm proud of you, Helga, seems like motherhood has done you some good." Our door was really cracked. Hopefully he wouldn't notice that. Hopefully he wouldn't notice anything, and would leave immediately and let me dramatically exit his life for….a third time, which was a little excessive, but whatever- I had no interest in high school reunions.

"I've done her all the good!" I heard Luke exclaim to Arnold, and then quieter, "Olga told me so." Arnold snorted.

"What are you doing?"

Arnold began a soft explanation of how door knobs work, which would have been _fascinating_ if it weren't Arnold, weren't in my childhood home, didn't have me sitting impatiently on the toilet, tapping my feet on the ugly linoleum.

The door clicked open. I stood up as he swung it open, grinning face peeking through it.

"Hi there," he beamed at me, "I have come to rescue you from your tower…or bathroom, whichever you'd prefer to call it."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

His bemused gaze fell off me and to the wall behind me. "Helga," he chastised, "that can't be safe, the nails on that shelf are nearly pulled completely out, it'll fal-"

It probably should have happened in slow motion, but life never really worked out that way. Really, in actuality, he toke a step forward in normal time, meaning to brush past me to examine my shelf, and let the door fall shut behind door was old, heavy, and closed quick, quicker than I had time to lunge for it, not that I didn't try.

He heard it click shut, and then turned around hastily to reach out to grab it, which was stupid, because he knew it was shut: he just heard it shut.

"Motherfucker." He swore solemnly, eyebrows furrowed together.

"That's a dollar!" Luke enthused from the other side. I groaned, and leaned down at the waist to press my face on the cool countertop.

Arnold already had his phone in his hand. "I can't call Lila," he paused, "she's in an interview this afternoon."  
"Call Gerald." I muttered into the counter. Gerald was never going to let either of us live that down. I guessed Hyvinkää wasn't entirely off the table after all.

"I'd rather die."

"I'd like to help you."

* * *

"So…" I hummed quietly. I was sitting on the toilet, and he had his back pressed to the door, sitting on the floor. I examined the polka dot pattern on my keds, the holes in my jeans. I probably hadn't washed the flannel I was wearing in a month. At least my hair was clean for this meeting, I may or may not have taken it down before he got there and combed it. I was bored, I was in a bathroom, sue me.

Gerald had laughed his ass off for a minute and a half and then said he'd take a half day and break us out.

I thought I had gotten pretty good at small talk. I thought I had basically learned the ins and outs of it, after surviving four years of college parties, and a lifetime of family functions.

I was wrong.

Any man who think they have mastered small talk was a fool. That was like deciding you're a master giant goldfish rider. It hadn't been done because it couldn't be done. Small talk was it's own goldfish, and belonged to no man.

I also thought that he wasn't married but that, again, was another foolish assumption. Maybe his ring was getting fixed in the ring shop that I was sure existed somewhere. Maybe it got dropped in a rain pipe after a stressful, but laughably quirky evening out with his wife. Maybe his fingers were too fat. Maybe he just hated rings.

"You and Lila, huh?"

He wrinkled his nose at me. "Me and Lila…what?"

"You know…" I shook my head, chuckling nervously. A chuckle wasn't a real thing that people do, not really… you chuckled when you wanted to look like you were laughing casually but you were actually trying really fucking hard to laugh. Ergo, the chuckle. "The big M."

I had never…in my life…heard marriage referred to as the big M. By anyone. Ever.

"…come again?"

Evidently, neither had Arnold.

"When did she get pregnant? It had to be after me, well, obviously, but it couldn't have been that long…"

You know, in my mind, topic change to literally anything sounded better than the awkward conversation I had started. Like, things no one wanted to talk about, like gun control, racism, whether or not Avril Lavigne was a clone… _anything_. And somehow, I managed to pick the one thing in the entire world that was more awkward to discuss. Really, I should have gotten medals for that shit.

"How old did Matt say he was? 7? 8?"

He couldn't have been 8 and been Arnold's sprog unless Arnold got into some deep shit in high school that I wasn't aware of, but I was having trouble doing that math because Arnold was blinking at me and spluttering.

"Matt and Soph aren't Lila's, Helga. And we're not married…or even together."

I thought, for a moment, how I was going to build myself a shelf for these awards… on it would be my Dumbass of the Year award, right next to the Bad at Small Talk medal I assigned myself earlier.

"Oh?" However, my inner 9 year old, 14 year old, and 20 year old (got mildly homesick at one point in college) did a kick flip that ended in a thumbs up with sunglasses that stayed on the entire time. "I'm sorry, Arnold. I just assume-"

"No, no-" he insisted, pulling one of his knees up to his chest. "It's okay, I get why you would think that. She's my assistant, for the time being."

"…oh?" Since when was Lila an assistant? Since when did Arnold have that kind of money? That was what I got for accepting no Facebook friend requests from anyone from High School.

"Yeah, I mean- sort of. She, uh, mostly started stepping in to help out with the boarders when Grandma and Grandpa got too old to… you know we both stayed local for college. She was good friends with Meredith." He shrugged. My head hurt because he said Meredith as if I knew who that was. Who the fuck was Meredith? "And times are tough. She's living at home right now, working part time for… I guess my parents more than me, and looking for other work. She's trying to at least get contracted for full time sub work."

Ah- yes, Lila was going to be a teacher, I vaguely remembered her discussing that in high school.

"So, uh," He licked his lips, I wondered if that was a new habit. "How are you? How's Mike?"

"Michael?" I probably made a face. I wasn't too aware of what my face was doing but it probably shriveled up. "God only knows."

Arnold had a really annoyingly cute confused look on his face. "So… he isn't?" He did a double take behind himself. It was funny, no, Arnold, Michael wasn't in that yard long bathroom with us, but thanks for doing that check.

"No, he isn't in this bathroom." Goddamnit, Helga, that wasn't one of those things you should have said out loud.

Arnold didn't notice the sarcasm. "I just thought Luke was…"

"His?" I raised my eyebrows and, in my mind, took a swig of vodka. "I never, uh," I rubbed under my nose because I didn't actually have any vodka, "I never fully ruled it out, but, uh…" Jesus Christ, could Arnold say something? Because that sentence had no clear end and I was clearly floundering and he was sitting there pretty with his metaphorical life preserver of a topic change and yet he continued to stare at me. "Kind of a bold question, there, Arnold."

He blinked at me again. "You started it."

Wow, Arnold, I wasn't aware we were still in the fourth grade, thanks for the reminder.

"You finish it," I replied, "tell me about Matt and Soph's mom."

"You've met her," Arnold furrowed his eyebrows at me. "You, literally, set us up."

…did I do that? Was there no end to the depths to the endless pit that was my self loathing in high school?

"You then called her a door knob, took our lunch, kissed my face, and left for San Francisco two weeks later."

Meredith- right, Meredith. I did remember her now. In high school I called her Mayonnaise in my head, and to Phoebe, which made the name harder to call on. The girl just…kind of, was mayonnaise…and a door knob. Like a door knob just…slathered in mayonnaise… There for a purpose, and kind of useful, but not really, because it's hard for a door knob covered in mayonnaise to turn at any point in time and…Arnold was staring at me again.

I wanted to say what was running through my mind. Then… what the fuck was up with Linda? Who the hell was she? Where the hell was Mayo- Meredith?

"Did I do a bad job?" Was all I could think of to say. "Did it not work out?" Since when did these cases end with the father having the kids, I had no idea.

"Uh, no," he laughed a little. "You did fine. She, uhm," He coughed. "She passed away a little time after Sophie was born."

I suddenly felt so much guilt for the minutes long inner monologue I had just had calling that woman mayonnaise. I hadn't said anything out loud, but my mind was yelling at itself in six thousand ways for it.

"Oh, Arnold…" I was not good with sympathy, why in the hell were we doing this in a bathroom? Why in the hell was this my life? I just prayed to whatever God was up there that Luke was not sitting outside the door still. "I'm _so_ sorry."

He, apparently, wasn't good with receiving it. "So, where's Luke's dad at? Or was it just…?"  
"It was just." I shrugged. I took a deep breath. " _Cool_ , now we've had _that_ talk, want to talk about… _anything else_?!" I enthused with a big smile.

He laughed at me. "I take it that means no questions about San Francisco? Or why you're back here?"

"Bingo, kiddo! He catches on, folks!" I announced to an imaginary crowd. My unfulfilled destiny truly was being a cohost of a b-rated talk show.

"Fine." He said with a shrug. He started to pull one of his shoes, vans, I guessed he wasn't quite out of his college-fashion phase, off his foot. "I bet you," he said as he tugged it off, "that I can balance my shoe on my head _way_ longer than you can balance yours."

I was tugging off my shoe before he could even finish the sentence.

"Bring it on, Shortman, bring it _on_."

* * *

I won that, which Arnold should have known I would win a test of sheer will, Arnold won shadow puppetry and now we were both sitting on the floor, examining my plumbing under my sink, that I was measuring anyway, for a new sink, but that hadn't gone well... _obviously_. Arnold was not impressed by my plan to put in a sink myself, and he demanded to look at the plumbing. Not that I could have stopped him anyway…it was only a cabinet and I was smaller than him.

"Helga, this shouldn't have duct tape on it, and it shouldn't be going this way, because of the natur-"

"Arnold, is my bathroom flooded?"

"No."

"Does the faucet work?"

"Yes."

"Then there's nothing wrong with my plumbing."

"That's the worst philosophy, especially on home improvement, that I have ever heard."

He was using his cellphone as a flashlight to examine this situation. I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to lower his arm. "Haven't you ever heard of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it?" I asked, tapping his wrist with my finger as I set it in his lap.

"Yea, I have-" Arnold looked at me and holy crap our faces were somewhat close and the bathroom was very small all of a sudden, "but I haven't heard of 'if it's broke, cover it in duct tape and pretend it's fixed."

"You should see my love life," I joked, knocking my shoulder into his, and why did I do that? Why did I say things before thinking, things that most plain minded people would call _flirting_ , with fucking Arnold? Why? I didn't know. Why did the ocean crash against the shore and why did the sun come up in the morning? No one knew. Actually, that wasn't true- there was likely real Science-y typed answers for those things that I just really didn't feel like googling. Maybe there was an answer for my behavior on google. Maybe I actually didn't want to know why I said it at all.

Arnold was giving me an annoyed look. "Did you forget who you're talking to?"

I gave a shout of laughter. I didn't know how to describe my laughter, genuine, real laughter, as anything but shouted. It just erupted out in loud "ha!"'s. I laughed again, grin stretching my face so hard I could feel it, shaking my head. I had forgotten about Linda…what a bitch.

Arnold was grinning _at_ me, which was different than just grinning, because his eyes were very focused on my face and therefore making me a little uncomfortable. I settled back a little bit away, shifting my body to face him instead of sit next to him. Distance was good, it was comfortable.

"Why did you leave, Helga?" He asked sincerely, smile dancing on his mouth still.

"You've never heard of someone going to college before?"

He gave me a flat look, "oh come on, Helga." He scooted backwards to settle back against the door and crossed his arms. "You weren't considering Berkeley at all."

"I was."

"You weren't."

"I _was_."

"You _weren't_."

The thing about Arnold was that he always had this super power, the worst one in the world but I digress, of making me unreasonably defensive of things I didn't really need to be defensive about.

"We weren't even really friends, Arnold." I tried to say it casually, because I hated his insinuation that he knew me better than I knew me. He could fuck right off of that one.

"Now that," He pointed his finger at me, "is b.s. And you know it."

"I don't know anything." I didn't care if it sounded childish, anything to stop this conversation from happening. I imagined, for half a second, being somewhere else. Like on a boat, with some shorts, and a sun hat and other boat related things. Maybe some wine, good wine, not that I had any idea what good wine was. But there might be water bugs and it can get so hot on boats and maybe boats shouldn't have been the day dream of choice and Arnold was talking and I wasn't really listening.

"There was a month and a half stretch where we were together literally every day."

"Well…" I blanched, "that was stupid, and I can say that because it was my idea and I know it was stupid."

His eyes left me, finally, and stared off at my wall. He had a little smile toying at his mouth. "What a disaster," he shook his head, "the wedding and the germa-"

"Oh my god," I groaned, shoving my face into my hands, "can we not talk about that, or anything in high school, like, ever?"  
When I looked back up at him, he was smiling sadly at me.

"Helga," he paused, probably for dramatic effect. Arnold was a quietly dramatic person. If you called him out on it, he'd deny it, but he was. He took pauses and glanced thoughtfully at people. But if you called him dramatic, he'd laugh and shake his head. Whereas there was me, whom if you called dramatic, would twirl in a red cape that I imagined myself having, mist swirling around my feet. Then I would have said something in french. I wasn't fully confirmed on the logistics, but the concept was there.

"Why don't you want to talk about it? Why have you been avoiding all of us? Was it…" He interrupted my thought about whether or not the cape had tassels on it. He licked his lips again. It was definitely a new habit. "Did you really hate us all that much?" Arnold had mastered what I called in my mind: soft eyes. They were filled with genuine feelings and good intentions and they were so specific and so impossible to describe.

I slumped down. Of course I didn't. How did he, or anyone else, not get that having a child at 18 was straight-up, no way around it, embarrassing? I was never embarrassed of Luke, and I never would be. But having an actual child exit my body was never part of the game plan at 18? Why was he was surprised that I didn't want to discuss having to move across the country to be with my sister because my parents were convinced I had fell into the wrong crowd, and maybe I had? That I didn't want to talk about it, not now, not ever- because, god damnit, I was trying to move the hell on? It happened even if I didn't expect it to, there was nothing for me to do about it, and honestly, I wanted nothing more than to forget about that feeling I had on my last day in Hillwood, when I packed up my locker and left. That feeling everyone was watching me, because there I was, the girl who got pregnant and was leaving two weeks before graduation. I couldn't wait to never be that girl again. "I didn't." I said quietly, because frankly, that monologue deserved to stay in my mind, and I had a right to keep it there.

"I've upset you," He was examining me, I wasn't looking at him but I could feel it, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset." I lied. "Just hungry, Jesus Christ- does Gerald drive a moped?"

Arnold shrugged. He was still watching me carefully.

"Being a single parent is hard." He said it as if he wasn't sure he wanted to. "And I want you to know you have…" He paused as if a pause would make the right words flow into his fingertips. "Support. If you need it."

I was staring at another single parent and that really didn't settle in me at that moment but I opened my mouth anyway, "Arnold, I…"

My doorbell rang. I was silently thankful, because I hated having Talks and Arnold seemingly loved to Talk and one was emotionally exhausting, but now I had sat through two, and my mac and cheese quota for the day was way below what it should have been.

"I'll get it!" Luke's tiny voice called from down the hall, which meant he hadn't been sitting there the entire time, thank God.

"Nah, Luke," I called sarcastically, "don't worry about it, I got it!"

His voice was just outside the door. "Very funny, Mom."

"Seriously kiddo, peak down and make sure it's Gerald before you go downstairs." I warned cautiously. I could be paranoid if I wanted too. I was still a mom.

"What does he look like?"

"Tall, dark skin, got big hair." Arnold replied. "Probably not wearing sleeves, he has a tattoo on his left shoulder." There was a moment's pause when we waited for Luke's response.

"I think it's him, I'll let him in!"

And we didn't hear the patter of feet running away, because he slid down the railing, which I would yell at him for, but I wouldn't at the same time, because I really did think kids needed to get themselves into some kinds of danger.

"Hey Pataki," I heard Gerald shout as he trumped up the stairs, "I like your kid, but we gotta' start workin' with him on some passwords. I coulda' been anybody!"

I looked at Arnold. "Do Matt and Sophie have passwords?"

He nodded, "they do."

I snorted, "evidently, they don't really use them."

He tilted his head and squinted at me, likely wondering what I was talking about, before he realized my reference and he gave what I could only call a shout of laughter too.

I thought for a moment, while Gerald fiddled with the screw driver outside of the door while Arnold coached him from the inside, that maybe it wasn't just a me thing- maybe everybody did the laugh shout when something was really funny.

I didn't think- I didn't think at all about how I really liked how Arnold's sounded, and I definitely didn't think that I wanted to hear it again.

* * *

 _a/n i love arnold & helga lowkey bickering. i love them lol. _

_love u guys too, thank u so much for the love & the feedback, it means a world of difference to me! tell me what u think the high school thing was lol. its funny bc this is all backwards because this was actually a sequel to another story i had in mind, which is actually listed on my tumblr, as rule 1 & 1/2 but i was kind of Over highschool arnold & helga ya feel me...i might write it someday but only after i finish leaves or camp igatseli. idk! maybe!_

 _love u all... seriously. like a lot. love u._

 _xx. k._


	5. Chapter 5

One of the singularly frustrating things about me was that I always lost bookmarks. Tried and true, never failed, I could not hold on to a book mark to save my life. My wall of books, that sat in boxes by the bar, mocked me.

As a …quasi, author, I supposed, book related gifts were just the go-to for nearly everyone in my life. I had been given countless bookmarks, tucked into coffee mugs or into an actual book, and they sat there and screamed at me. _Hey asshole, look, I'm a bookmark and therefore a stupid waste of money for whoever bought you me, lol, I've got a feather on me, though!_

One time I read an interest piece that suggested that everyone has some sort of small superpower, magic if you will. It had the inclination that it was always something entirely mundane, like never failing to open a soda can on the first try, or nailing french braiding your own hair. Maybe mine was losing bookmarks. Or disappearing.

I was brilliant at both.

I watched my son, engrossed in whatever Arnold had brought up on his iPad, holding it in his hands, with his bite and sip water bottle on his chest, nub stuck in his mouth, unmoving despite not having taken a drink in quite a few moments. It had been over an hour since Gerald freed us from the bathroom hell.

The aforementioned Gerald pointed something out, and Luke nodded, leaning forward with more interest, but not removing the water bottle from his chest.

The bite and sip water bottle was still an enigma to me. My son pointed it out in Target, insisting that he needed one for his spring soccer games, insisting everyone had one. And at the game, there were camelback brand water bottles littering the ground by parents, for the kids to run out and grab at their own will.

That was additionally something I never had a talent for that my son did, picking up on trends and blending in with other kids. Something that Gerald and Arnold, sitting with him, did have the talent for.

I imagined that couldn't possibly be a magic trick, because it becomes all too apparent when you're the one on the outside: everyone knows it but you. Arnold and Gerald were giving me all kind of nasty high school flashbacks, so I was trying to plot ways to get them out. Hopefully before they noticed the stacked boxes full of books.

I didn't exactly know exactly how to convey 'ay, get the fuck out of my house,' without outright saying 'ay, get the fuck out of my house." I was hoping the look on my face while they sat discussing Star Wars with my son was enough. However, no single party partaking in that event seemed particularly interested in the look on my face, so that was kind of a bust. Maybe my next try would be through the woes of interpretive dance…or whale song.

"Hey guys," I called out, throwing a line out into the deep ocean that was Star Wars discussions, "thanks for coming over and putting my door knob back together and that fun stuff, but uh, I promised Skywalker over there that I'd take him to get some new soccer gear this afternoon."

"Soccer?" Gerald sat up, "you play, little man?"

Luke finally set down his green water bottle, nodding as he did so.

"Awesome!" Arnold enthused, patting Luke on the shoulder as he stood up. "Me and Gerald volunteered to coach Matt's group next year, I'm sure we could pull a line," He winked at me, the strange, odd, little man, "And get him in?"

Why was it, no matter what I said in whatever situation, it was inherently, infallibly _wrong_. And got me signed up for even more non-sense? Was this punishment for never signing up for anything in high school ever? Not that save-the-whales club didn't sound delightful, but every fucking Thursday for two hours? What were we even gonna do about the whales? We lived like…four hours from the nearest coast.

"Oh well," I intervened before they got poor Luke's hopes up too high. "I'm not sure if we'll be here, come fall."

"Oh?" Arnold walked over to the fridge side of the counter, opposite to me. He leaned on it, slightly too tall for it to be comfortable. Damn genetics. Damn late growth spurts. "Why not?"

Why did he always ask questions I had no real answers to? Was that his magic?

"I, uh," I blinked, looking up, and noticing the light that was hanging out. "It's beat up," I said honestly, because I just didn't have the heart to tell him that Hillwood was not the ideal place for raising children, "the house is. I thought we could help but I," I looked back to Luke, his little eyes were observing me curiously. Damn kid. Damn curiosity. "I think it's a little beyond what I can do myself."

Arnold wasn't looking at me when I looked back, he was looking at Gerald. And Dear God, he was grinning.

"Seems like you're in luck there, too." Arnold looked back at me, smile still shooting out like a fucking…beacon or something. Any thought I might have had of that possibly being his superpower, I smashed. With an anvil. Followed by a piano.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I clarified. I couldn't believe I didn't listen because I was thinking about his goddamn smile. How old was I, again?

"Home renovations are kind of my… _schtick_ ," if people could twinkle, he'd be a goddamn sparkler. He had some kind of glint in his eye. "That's my business."

"…you're kidding."

He _had_ to be.

"Not at all," he shook his head, still beaming. "How was I gonna get some new boarders in, the way it looked? It's why I stayed in Hillwood. That and…" He shrugged. "I got a carpenter's technical degree, and now it's what I do." He looked up to what I stared at above, the light that missed a fixture. "That's a fire hazard," He pointed at it. "I can come by and fix that in the morning, but after that I have a client to meet, but on Friday we could come in and look at some of this wood rot, you've got water damage over here," Arnold was gesturing to the ceiling, moved away from the counter, so I was on my feet too, on top of his heel.

"Arnold," I had to hop up a little, and I still couldn't quite grab his wrist, but I settled for forearm. He noticed, and smirked at my hold on him with bemusement. "May I have a …talk, with you?"

"Uh," His eyes flicked up momentarily to our arms, still suspended in the air. "Sure?"

"Great." I then, gracefully as fuck, dragged him down the hall. Which was a mistake, because the only particularly enclosed room in that direction was in fact the coat closet, but privacy was privacy.

I opened it harshly, gesturing that he could step in. He raised his eyebrows at me, shoved a smile under the surface, then ducked his head to step in. I followed, yanking the chain of the light on, slamming the door behind me.

"And, just what the hell do you think you're doing, Bob the Builder?" I asked in a harsh whisper.

"I'm going to help you…not kill yourself or your son in this house?"

"Have you ever considered, even for a moment," I fiercely held his eye contact. My hands were on my hips. I couldn't remember if that was a thing I had always done, or if that were a Mom thing, "that I haven't hired a contractor because I can't afford a contractor."

"Helga," His face looked weird in the low light, odd shadows casted on it. I also noticed he was standing closer to me than was strictly necessary. Sure there were boxes of God knows what behind him, and maybe a few spider webs, but that didn't mean he had to be all up in my space. Fight a spider, Arnold, man up. And he was moving closer? No. And he grabbed my elbow? _Hell_ no. "You're crazy if you think I'd take your money for this."

I was still mad. I was mad about the money before and now I didn't even know what to be mad about. Him trying to seamlessly insert himself into my life? His close proximity? The fact there could very well be a spider on my foot and I'm wearing keds so I wouldn't even _know_? It was all infuriating.

Arnold, some kind of…master emotion reader or some shit, I don't know, seemed to sense that I was still upset, because his grip on my elbow adjusted, so he could soothingly rub his thumb on my inner elbow… Really…what the _fuck_ , Arnold. I was so _distracted_ by it I almost missed what he said: "tell me what you're _really_ upset about."

I crossed my arms defensively, effectively removing his grip on me. "I'm not," I grumbled like a petulant child.

"Helga," he warned, moving even more into my space.

"What?" I asked innocently, "I said I'm not, and I'm not." I was a lying liar but… _whatever_.

He stumbled on his footing a bit, planting a hand on the door behind me to keep his balance. It thumped loudly, just above my head. I looked up at it while he repositioned himself, but he didn't remove his hand. He recovered easily, and said with a huff of breath, "just tell me what you're pissed about?"

"How many times do I have to tell you," I tried to avoid eye contact but there was truly nowhere else to look, "I'm not mad."

"How many times do I have to tell you," he said, a small playful smirk growing on his face, "I know when you're lying to me."

"HEY," Gerald called from down the hall, "WHAT IN THE EARTH ARE Y'ALL DOIN' IN THERE, AND IS IT GONNA BE DONE SOON? I WAS THINKIN' ABOUT HAVIN' LUNCH SOMETIME THIS CENTURY!"

Arnold stepped back, smug smirk still written all over his face, and I so desperately wanted to smack it off, but that wasn't what I wanted Luke's inclinations to be, so I didn't. I turned around, opened the door, and stepped out. Because I am a mature as fuck Lady who also still wanted some mac n cheese. Arnold came up to stride next to me, looking down with that same dumb ass smug grin.

I tripped him.

Let those who live without sin throw the first stone.

"Hey, Helga," Gerald leaned over with a grin, "you ever heard of a Movie Tavern?"

"A movie…what?"

Luke looked with curiosity in between us.

Arnold returned to our group with a good natured smile, and an embarrassed rub of his neck. He knew he deserved it. "You don't have those in San Fran?"

No one called it San Fran, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that, so I just shook my head.

"I know what we're doing this afternoon." Gerald clapped like he made all the decisions in my life, "who's driving?"

I really, really wanted to say no. Say that we had plans, do something to not land myself in another afternoon of adventure with those two morons. But Luke, from the bottom of his heart was grinning, and as hard as I tried, I knew male influences were good in his life. Especially the well adjusted, good natured kind, as in, not my father. And so, I did as I always did, and bucked the fuck up. I said, "how many are coming?"

Arnold counted on his hands, muttering under his breath. "Seven!" He announced.

Gerald checked a text on his phone, "better make that eight."

Oh, dear _God_.

Whatever a movie tavern was, it better have some goddamn mac n cheese.


	6. Chapter 6

I didn't know why I was bitter that the concept of a "movie tavern" was actually fun and cool, but I was. I suppose it was somewhat that seven-year old mentality that still sat in the back of my mind, the on that said that I wanted to be the one to discover the cool things. It lived in a co-op with the part of me that gets angry when people say they're a fan of certain franchises, but they've only seen the movies instead of reading the books. Irrational? Perhaps. Irrevocable? Certainly.

But a movie theatre that serves you food & alcohol?

Genius.

We had to take at least two cars for the sake of the numbers, and when we got outside there was a small awkward dance number as we moved in the direction of our own cars, and then each others, and then stopped and stared at each other. All in all, a terrible dance number. We would have never made it on Dancing with the Stars. Unless it was the season where that lame guy from Fresh Prince won…then…maybe…

"Uh," I scratched my neck, "you guys are blocking me in, so once you move out, I'll pull out."

"Just come with me," Arnold shrugged, unlocking his car. "Save gas, and all that-"

"Carpool is the modern bike riding," Gerald chimed in, "but I do have the cooler car."

That was…true, unfortunately. Gerald was sporting a massive black truck that was both shiny and irresponsible looking. Arnold, on the other hand, had a modest looking Rogue- a car I myself considered getting. It wasn't so much the Batman and Robin of cars, more so…the Batman and Batman's dad of cars. Although Batman didn't really have a dad so…whatever, case null and void, Gerald's car was cooler than Arnold's.

"Wanna ride in this giant monster?" I gestured to Gerald's car, asking Luke. Luke nodded feverishly.

"There's my boy!" Gerald hollered, opening the side door for him. He hoisted him in, Luke laughing, my heart smiling, and then offered me a hand up. I flicked it, grabbed the handles, and pulled myself in. I, smugly, shut the door behind me.

"She's comin' round to yours," I heard Gerald say through the door, muffled because of the exterior. He checked a text on his phone, "so we'll just meet you there."

"Can't believe you stole my passengers," Arnold shook his head with a laugh.

"Arnold, man, I've stolen a lot of your girls, let's be real with ourselves here."  
Arnold looked up, looking at me watching the exchange, more importantly, at Luke who wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, enthralled with the many buttons on the dash board. He then, ever-so gracefully, flipped Gerald off.

Gerald was laughing as he got in on his side.

The car ride was mostly Gerald explaining to Luke what goes into driving a truck that large, which was wonderful, because it saved me answering anymore questions. We pulled up to the house I had visited two weeks ago, which Gerald told us in the car was actually Arnold's parent's house, which only made sense, just because of basic economics of then and there. They had bought it when Meredith got pregnant- simultaneously the year they deemed Pookie and Grandpa too damn old to be running the Boarding House.

* * *

I looked at the lawn, looking like a mashup of a goodwill and a great frat party, that also kind of looked like Martha Stewart puked on it. There were a mixed collection of lawn chairs with matching little end tables, they had inlays of ceramic tiles on top. There were baseballs scattered all over, and two big wheelers sitting at the edge of the lawn, a tent that had fallen down at the other corner.

It looked, and sound like, an absolute mad house, but a loving one.

Matt, who had no idea that a friend was coming to the movies too, practically did a kick flip when we got inside. Or, as close to one as a seven year old got. He had a similarly enthusiastic reaction to me, too, which was odd but endearing.

"Hi…Mrs. Pataki!" He told me, hugging on to my thigh. "Thanks for bringing Luke back, I knew you would!"

"Hey, bud-" I knelt down to his level. "He's pumped to see you too. Also, no Mrs. Pataki. I'm not even married. That's my mom. What about Helga, instead?"  
He shriveled his nose up- apparently calling adults by their first name was just not written in the Shortman code. Much like bad attitudes and drinking on Mondays.

"Uncle Gerald!" Sophie enthused as Stella carried her down the stairs. So- that's what they did with Gerald. Having them call me Aunt anything was …too weird. But Mrs. Pataki might actually kill the youth that still lived in me, despite my own spawn being four steps away.

"What about Ms. Helga?" Arnold put a hand on my back, kneeling down to his son, too.

Matt nodded- that one worked.

"Alright, bud, sounds good. Go get some shoes on, we're gonna leave pretty soon!" Matt nodded again- he wasn't that talkative of a kid so far. He grabbed Luke's wrist.

"Come on- now I can show you the collection!"

They were upstairs before Arnold or I could call to tell them not to take too long.

We watched them go, smiles bent on both of our faces, because, in truth, our boys happy made us happy.

"I have a feeling we're going to be spending a lot of time together, Ms. Helga." Arnold sighed, wrapping an arm around me, rubbing his hand soothingly on my shoulder.

"Ah, ah ah-" I teased, rolling out of it. "It's Mrs. Pataki to you, kid."

Was I flirting with Arnold?

Probably.

Was it intentional?

All I could think of in response to that question was that episode of Spongebob where Patrick says that the inner mechanisms of his mind were an enigma, and then some milk spills.

"Helga?" Arnold prompted again, and I realized that I was thinking about what on earth underwater milk consisted of instead of listening to him talk.

"Mil- uh, what? Sorry," I winced apologetically. He laughed again.

"Would you hold Sophie while we roll Grandpa out to the car? She loves to try and 'help.'" He winked at me. He had, at some point in time, acquired said Sophie. Gerald was nowhere in sight. I wondered just how long I had been thinking about sea-milk.

Before I could respond, the door was cracking open, and there was a young black woman standing there. She was wearing high waisted jeans in a way that made her look cool, a way I couldn't, her hair came just past her chin with well defined ringlets, and she had overly circular tortoiseshell sunglasses on. She pushed them up towards her head, and announced "where is my Sophie?"

Sophie giggled and clapped her hands, and Arnold looked down at me, "nevermind, the calvary just rolled in."

He walked over to the woman, who I felt I should know but straight up had no clue who she was, and handed her over.

"Hi, Aunt Timberly," he greeted, kissing her cheek. Timberly- right, Timberly was Gerald's younger sister.

"Hello, Ms. Sophie!" She squealed spinning her around. Sophie giggled harder. I put my hands in my pockets, unsure of just what to do. I felt a little like a dolphin at a petting zoo. Probably cool to pet too, but just doesn't belong. "And, hello Arnold- whew, you tryna' make me love you again?" I just noticed she had on a deep purple lipstick. She pulled off the kind of cool that I only saw on Instagram.

Arnold rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "you caught me."

"You betta' watch yaself, Arnold!" Gerald called from down the hall, causing the two to burst into laughter.

"Helga's joining us today," Arnold walked over to me, slinging an arm around my neck once again, "brand new to the crew," he jostled me in, sticking a hand in his pocket.

"Helga," she squinted at me, turning her head to the side. She bounced Sophie on her hip with ease. "Weren't you the one that, in high school or something, Arnold was completely-"

"Anyway," he avoided, despite my curious glance, "I'm gonna go make sure they don't need any help with the-"

"I got it!" Gerald announced, wheel chair hoisted over his head. A completely asinine way to carry a wheel chair, if you asked me, but hey- it wasn't my wheel chair. "Pops is comin' right around the corner, and then we are all good to go!"

"Hey boys-" Arnold hollered up the stairs, "two minute warning!" He crossed the room to open the door for Gerald, who smiled at him as he carried the chair out to Arnold's car.

"I thought we'd put Soph in her chair with you, obviously, then I'll take the girls and you can make it a boy's day in the Rogue?"

"Sounds good to me," Arnold nodded.

Gerald was then out of sight of the door, presumedly putting the chair in the car.

Matt and Luke came racing down the steps- now wearing hoodies that I hadn't seen before in my life. Luke's had Woody from Toy Story's outfit on it, and Matt's had Buzz Light Years. It was ridiculous, because it was July, but also so cute that I couldn't tell them to take it off. Grandpa Phil rounded the corner at near the same time, he grabbed Luke's shoulder at the end of the steps.

"Matt, grab Grandpa's glasses off the island in the kitchen, will ya?"

Luke didn't bother to correct him, shrugging it off, and walking around the corner to where Grandpa had gestured. I laughed a little, and Gerald appeared back in the door.

"Alright team, are we ready to roll out?" He asked the room, putting his hands on his hips.

"Grandma," Matt turned to Stella, which was bizarre, because Stella did not look like a woman with a Grandchild, let alone one old enough to ask her questions, "are you coming?"

"Grandma is going to stay here, buddy," Arnold called across the room, answering for her, "enjoy an afternoon of peace in her own home," he winked at her. I punched the Helga in the back of my mind who thought it was cute in the face. Then I thought about the milk thing again…do fish produce milk? That was pretty much exclusively mammals, right? What about Sandy? Do squirrels produce milk?

Luke reappeared with Grandpa's glasses, who was looking perplexed, staring between the two boys. He put them on with a shaking hand, leaving the other firmly on his walker, and then leaned down to squint at Matt.

"Wait, if that's little Matt then," He looked at Luke, who hadn't moved from in front of him. "Who in the heck are you?"

"I'm Matt's friend!" He pointed at Matt, grinning at Phil. I smiled and shook my head, my eyes meeting Arnold's, who looked just as amused.

"Your Matt's age then?" Luke nodded vigorously.

"I gotta tell ya' kid," he grabbed Luke's shoulder, leaning down close, "Never get old. It's adangin' trap." I knew then my suspicions were confirmed- it was an absolute madhouse, but a loving one.

* * *

Pixar movies are a lot more fun with alcohol, I learned very, very quickly. I suddenly made it my new mission in life to get drunk and watch the entire Cars anthology. Because Cars sucked so fucking badly, something had to make it palatable.

We took up an entire row in the theatre, starting with Phil on one end, then Sophie, Arnold, myself, Luke, Matt, Gerald and Timberly. We were watching Finding Dory, and I could have sworn to Heaven and back that 95% of the laughter in the theatre came from Gerald and Timberly on the end. Matt, and Luke, however, were perfectly well behaved, sharing a plate of nachos that probably weighed more than they did.

Gerald, once again, guwaffed at something that just wasn't that funny and I giggled because he was so loud, glancing down the aisle at him. Arnold put his hand on my knee, and leaned over to leer down the aisle.

"Gerald," He whisper-shouted, holding a finger to his lips with a smile.

Gerald looked affronted, whipping out his phone.

Arnold's phone then buzzed, and he shuffled back into his seat, removing his hand from my leg, thankfully, and setting it on the arm rest in between us. I, however, because I'm literally the nosiest person on the face of the planet, leaned over the rest, letting my fingers push on his, to read the text.

G Daddy 2:43

let a man enjoy his animated fish, arnold.

I snickered, but less at the text. Arnold looked up at my amusement, chuckling a little himself, giving me a curious look.

"Why the fuck-" I whispered through snorting, "is Gerald's name G Daddy in your phone?"

He looked down, looked back up, and cackled. And I mean Cackled. Like Arnold was a full out, Salem-Trial, witch. We were leaned in close to each other, he grabbed my wrist as he laughed.

"Shh," We heard from the other end, and we looked down to see our boys, with fingers to their mouths, looking disapproving.

"Behave," Luke mouthed to me grumpily.

I had to sink down in my seat like I did to avoid teachers in high school, I was laughing so hard.

* * *

The movie was honestly probably forgettable, but Gerald, Luke and Matt were chattering about it as we left the theatre as if it were the new Divinci Code. Arnold was wheeling Phil across, and the rest of the group trailed behind. We were making arrangements to head back to Arnold's for a game of soccer, when Arnold's name was called across the room. We looked up in tandem, to see Ms. Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd striding across the room, in patent black heels.

"Rhonda," I whispered, and did the Responsible Adult thing- hid behind Arnold, pressing my back into his. Luke must have recognized my shit-I-got-caught act, because he dropped to the floor, as we did often. Gerald and Matt looked down with alarm, and Luke was putting a finger to his mouth, and waving Matt down. Gerald frowned, but nodded putting a finger to his mouth like he understood. Matt got down, and they army crawled away. I smacked a hand on my face. I knew my spawn would have a flair for the dramatic, but this was a little extra.

"Arnold, Gerald!" She enthused, making noisy kissing sounds. "Taking the kids out for a film?"

"Sure are." They replied in unison. They must have given each other a funny look after, because Rhonda laughed.

"Look at you two, like a little couple yourselves." I didn't know how Rhonda made literally anything sound mildly insulting, but she managed it with grace. Like the snake from Jungle Book. The Scarlett Johanssen one, maybe. That was a compliment, right? I mean, if I wanted to be compared to a snake, it'd sure as hell be the Scarlett Johanssen one.

"I see you, Pataki." I heard her leer, and I wished I had made like my son, and army crawled away when I had the chance. I could have just done it then, but that would have been straight up weird. I was going for a little weird, but not straight up weird.

"Rhonda," I flipped around the side of Arnold, standing in between him and Gerald. "How are you."

"Fabulous," we were being faker than Barbie's degree from medical school. "I'm so glad you're back in Hillwood. And reunited with these two, even! How was California?"

"Wonderful."

"And the baby?" She sneered.

"Even moreso." Gerald answered for me, and I felt a rush of appreciation for him in the moment.

"Will you be coming to wine & whine then?" Rhonda smiled.

"Will I be…what?" I couldn't tell if that was an insult or a genuine question.

"Absolutely," Arnold's arm was back on my shoulder. I thought that I needed to wear something with a giant ass collar so he couldn't do that anymore. Like the evil lady from Snow White. Or was it Sleeping Beauty? Shit, sometimes I wished I had a girl. "All three of us will see you there!"

"Perfect!" She clapped, "my favorite little _menage a trois_." Her tone of implication was both inappropriate and …weird, and I just really wanted to dump more things on her, like I did so often in High School. High School Helga made a shit ton of bad decisions, dumping shit on Rhonda? Probably not one of them. "See you there!" She twirled away, teal dress not as flattering as it was from the front from the back. I glanced over, my son and Matt had, at some point, gotten Phil over to the games, where he was determinedly playing a round of Pacman, to the rousing cheers of Timberly, Sophie, Matt and Luke. I would have smiled at it, if I didn't want to strangle Arnold for agreeing for me to go to God Knows What with _Rhonda_ of all people.

"What is it that you just agreed for me that I'd go to that because I'm like 95% sure I'd rather lick mayonnaise off a stop sign in Kansas than go to it." I deadpanned with a flat look, watching Rhonda swish her way out of the theatre.

"It's a little get together that Rhonda throw-"

"I'm sorry, excuse me," Gerald interrupted Arnold's explanation, "but where in the hell did you pull that one out of? Kansas? How is a stop sign in Kansas any worse than any other state?"

I frowned, looking up at him as I leaned against the wall, "have you ever been to Kansas?"

"No."

I stopped, waited, and stared at him.

His eyes narrowed at me, "I see your point."

Arnold blinked, looking between the two of us, " _anyway_ \- she likes to pretend we're all thirty for some reason, and we go over and drink wine and eat cheese and sometimes play a board game."

"Last time I kicked her husband's _ass_ at checkers." Gerald sounded entirely too proud, "Mofo never saw it comin'." Gerald had this tendency to get really competitive about the dumbest shit. Cars, checkers, he always sounded like he thought he deserved a Gold Medal for pretty average nonsense... but it kind of made me laugh, so I supposed I could tolerate it.

Arnold shook his head, "It was a couple's thing. We played everything in pairs, kind of. There hasn't been one for a while…since the divorce. But looks like she's back in the swing of things!"

"And the fool didn't even sign a pre-nup!" Gerald joked, jostling Arnold with his elbow, who shot him a warning look.

"Gerald brings a different girl every-time. I brought Lila after Mere…" he licked his lips, "but now, Lila can bring David, and I can bring you and Gerald can bring…whoever he picks up the night before." He waved his hand haphazardly.

Gerald laughed, "damn straight." I had a feeling I wouldn't need to bother learning whomever he brought with him's name, not that I was planning on going. Because I wasn't. Honestly.

"And you just assumed I'd say yes to all of this?" I clicked my tongue.

"Come on, Pataki- have a little fun." Gerald spoke instead of Arnold, grabbing my shoulder.

"Plus, Matt and Soph always go camping with Mom and Dad on those weekends, I'm sure Luke could tag along. That would give you only four hours of party obligation, and then a whole kid-free Saturday," Arnold tempted, working in some kinda puppy eyes that maybe would have worked in High School, and only kind of worked then. Goddamnit- what could I say? They were really good puppy eyes. Like, he just plucked them off a golden retriever, or something. Except not literally...because that would be fucking gross.

I thought of hiding in the bathroom from my child so I could finish my work, and then I nodded. "Say its only three hours and we got a deal."

"Fine," Arnold laughed, "Three." He held out his hand for a shake. Because I was feeling immature, I spit into mine, and then offered it to him. He rolled his eyes, grabbed my forearm, and pulled me in, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Deal," he said smugly. I wiped my hand off on my jean, and then elbowed him, like I was disgusted by the entire thing.

They might as well call me Helga Pataki, Queen of Mixed Signals.

"So Rhonda's already been through a divorce?" I mused, mildly haughtily, folding my arms and leaning against the wall again.

"Two!" Gerald gossiped.

"No- one, the first one was just a broken engagement." Arnold corrected, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Well," I pushed off the wall, walking towards Skywalker and co. "Who am I to judge, at least she doesn't have any sprogs from them."

"That's fair," Gerald said behind me, "that's very fair."

"Okay, wait-" I turned around, "one y'all has got to explain G Daddy, and I'm demanding answers now."

"You can do tha-" They said in unison again. "ME? What! NO!"

I couldn't keep the laugh in.


	7. Chapter 7

"I love camping," Luke enthused as we strolled through Target. I said a little mini prayer that he stayed into camping longer than he stayed into all of his other hobbies, so that this shit wasn't on eBay within six months.

"You haven't been camping yet," I reminded him gently, simultaneously checking to make sure none of the stuff in our cart wasn't cheaper on Amazon. I loved Amazon. I didn't know I needed an online retailer where I could have 10,000 live lady bugs and six cases of triscuits delivered to my door within 2 days, but it turned out I did.

Luke was blinking at me, waiting for my attention, so I looked at him.

He took that moment to look back up at the shelves excitedly, "I love camping." He said again, beaming.

I loved his uncurbable, if mildly irritating, enthusiasm.

We had reached a candy aisle, as I struck a deal with Grandpa Shortman, saying if he was providing all the food for an entire two days, we were providing s'mores materials. Luke reached out for the Hershey's bars, but I threw in a pack of Reese's cups as well.

"But aren't we getting…" Luke looked up at me with his cute, confused expression. He then shrugged.

He realized arguing against candy was not in his best hand of cards.

Smart boy.

"They're even better," I told him slyly as we pushed our cart along, "with Reese's Cups."

He looked up at me, "did you read that on Pinterest?"

Why couldn't my kid ever let me live.

I, just one time, wanted to pass as a cool seasoned mom, who learned how to bake through years of experience, and how to cook instinctively. A mom who didn't have several half-assed pinterest boards and completely understood why the hell everything in her kitchen had to be in a mason jar.

"Have we got it all?" Luke asked me, surveying over our cart.

"Let's get some mason jars…" I said airily, considering that, no, i did have some oats that weren't in a mason jar, "and some…twine. And maybe little tags made out of chalkboard." I moved on, pushing through the candy, reminding myself that I didn't need a bag of twixes, in my mind.

"Mom… you're _weird_." Luke probably didn't think I heard him as he fell in line behind him. I let him enjoy that ignorance.

* * *

"Arnold," I interjected quietly as I pretended to have interest in helping load Miles' truck. I was already starting to get that pre-school parent separation anxiety, which was ridiculous, because I had hella work to get done tomorrow. After, of course, getting through Rhonda's party, which I was currently calling the The Skeleton Hell Reunion in my head.

In truth, having a safe…free place that Luke would enjoy to ship him off for a weekend was…lifting more weight off my shoulders than I thought it would. I was careful, extremely careful, about who got involved in Luke's life, and for how long. Even though they all vaguely annoyed me and were too damn happy, the Shortmans were, from the tips of their toes to to Miles' receding hairline, good people. And although I wasn't trying to play Full House with them, finding good people for my kid to hang out with was…nice. It was _good_.

"What's up?"

"About Rhonda's tonight…" I looked down at the jeans which had holes in them that I didn't pay for, "how dressed up are we talkin?"

"Uh," Arnold scratched the back of his neck, "I would change, if I were, uh, you." He was trying to sound as nice as possible.

I snorted, because, believe it or not, I wasn't actually planning on wearing my Poke-Mom t-shirt to a fancy adult get together.

"Oh, I don't know, Helga-" he rubbed a hand on his face, "wear what you want."

"So…" I squinted at him, "my jeans without holes in them?"

He laughed then, I enjoyed the crinkled up piece of skin by his mouth…in a non-psychopathic way. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it, shaking his head and turning to grab another box.

I had a feeling I knew what he was gonna say ' _we're gonna be the talk of the town no matter what, wear a fuckin' shark costume, for all i care_.'

Okay, maybe not the shark thing, or the swear, because it was _Arnold_ , but I probably got the gist of it.

* * *

"Did you…" Arnold mumbled at me as we waved goodbye to the truck backing out "did you write your name and phone number on his arm?"

"What if he gets amnesia and wanders into a small town with a cute diner and they're trying to help him and he doesn't know anything and then he ends up working in it for the rest of his adolescence and I end up an old spinster who _knits_ and tells stories of my son to the neighborhood children?"

"I…" He stopped waving his hand, as they were nearly out of the neighborhood, "okay, Helga."

"Stop thinking I'm crazy," I commanded, waving until I literally couldn't see the truck anymore.

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me."

"…okay, Helga."

* * *

Gerald was parking down the street while I was. I pretended to be busy in my car until he was nearby, so I could get out and walk with him. He had a pretty looking woman, who was obviously finding it difficult to breathe in the mauve dress she chose to wear, standing with him. I towered over her, even though I was wearing relatively small heels.

I had very few quote _adult clothes_ unquote. Working from home and hating spanx did that to me. I tossed half of my hair up into a ponytail and was wearing a lace dress that I may or may not have bought in my freshman year. It was black and not entirely tight and I got too distracted watching reruns of Home Improvement to find anything better. Which was surprising, because Home Improvement was a terrible t.v. show.

"Sofia," she held out a hand, that I noticed was tiny, but I didn't want to comment on her tiny-ass hand because that's not suitable small talk.

"Helga," I smiled down at her. "Nice to meet you," _why is your hand so tiny_ , I added on silently. "Oh, no, you have snacks." She had a grilled fruit tray in her hand. As in, the fruit was grilled. Not the tray. "I forgot bringing snacks is something adults do for other adults."

"Fear not-" A voice from behind me said, probably a football shaped one, "you have wine, which is like snacks," he was standing behind me, putting a hand on my back, "but better."

"It's just fermented snacks," Gerald rolled his eyes, but Arnold ignored him.

"Hi," he held out a hand to tiny-ha… _Sofia_ , and grinned "Arnold, nice to meet you."

* * *

"Is she gonna make us play charades?" I muttered to Arnold as we approached the house, which was far too large for a single couple, but that was their life.

"Unlikely." He replied, one hand on the bottle of wine, the other in his pocket. "It started to happen once, but me and Gerald bailed before the cards were even made up.

"Does she have a white couch?" I asked, wishing my dress had pockets.

"Uh…I'm not sure. Why?"

"…just seems like something Rhonda would have, that's all." That was a lie, I was just thinking of a master charades exit strategy. I would fake a heart attack before entering a game of charades.

We were greeted by someone at the door that I didn't know, but they clearly knew Gerald and Arnold. I was prepared to do a lot of shifty walking around corners and carefully executed bathroom trips, but in truth… I only knew a handful of people, tops, and they were all kids I had like…third period math with senior year of high school. We ducked in and out of people, eventually losing Gerald and Sofia to a discussion of the last basketball game, which Arnold missed and I didn't give a fuck about.

I was currently pretending like I knew the difference between good and bad shrimp and this was good shrimp. We were standing with a woman who must have spent an hour curling her hair, and her husband who looked like he smelled like Ralph Lauren cologne and a disappointing sex life. Arnold was talking about the packard with him, and he had asked about it, so they must have known each other. I complimented her on her bracelet, and then had a conversation where I pretended I knew anything about who David Yurman was.

Which was fine, actually, because she spoke about him like we had met last week. Which, overall, meant that I was doing it, I was seamlessly blending into a crowd of adults, like adults do, forming one adult-y snow man that tumbles down a hill so fast no one can truly escape it. I had a glass of wine in one hand, an easy smile on my face, and a blossoming warmth in my chest. Which was great, because we were standing not so far from the door, getting small splashes of cool summer air, washing over us every time the door was opened.

The other adults probably didn't have that metaphor on their mind, but I did. And it didn't truly matter, did it? As long as it stayed there, in my mind, I meant.

I spotted Rhonda out of the corner of my eye, welcoming Harold and…whomever Harold brought, tersely into her home. I nudged Arnold, and he glanced up from his conversation from Ralph Lauren, glancing in their direction. I quirked an eyebrow at him, in a that's-a-story-to-tell-me-later way, and he nodded, patting a hand on my back. He left it lingering there, fingers ghosting over my spine, thumb tapping a rhythm, while he nodded at Ralph.

I was back into discussing houseplants, for whatever reason, with Yurman, when there was a hand on my arm.

"There they are!" Rhonda gushed, turning around to Harold with a smile so fake it might as well have been Barbie's. "I heard you two were here.

"Harold!" Arnold removed his hand from me to clap hands in a Manly way with Harold, "good to see you, man."

"And you are?" He asked the lady friend, who was plump and short with curly black hair falling into her eyes.

"Katie," she held out a dark hand to him. "Hi."

"Great to meet you."

"Helga," I replied, when she turned to me. She had a nice smile, it was full and large, and a dimple was prominent in her cheek.

Harold was wearing this godawful sportscoat, and I was suddenly thankful for Arnold's just-dressy-enough checked shirt, rolled up to show the watch on his wrist.

"Are you from Hillwood?" He asked Katie politely.

"Actually, I just moved here from Cherry Sprin-"

"Harold." Rhonda interrupted coldly, and I looked up to her with a curious expression. Rhonda was always quietly ruthless, never loud about it. "Can I take your coat?"

She was doing a general good deed and public service, by taking that plaid monstrosity away from everyone's sight, but I couldn't help but watch her tense back in her red dress as she walked over, only a few feet, to hang it up.

"Did you have a coat?" She called over to me, like she knew I was watching her, assuming she had my attention. Rhonda really pissed me off sometimes. "Arnold?" she asked when I shook my head. "Well, then," she had that weird smile back on her face.

I wasn't sure if Arnold had picked up on the weird, tense environment that Rhonda had created, or if it was just his way, but his hand was back on my back.

"Helga, I have to tell you," Rhonda was grinning good-natured-ly, or in what she thought looked that way, it looked stretched and unnatural on her face. "When you said you were coming, I wasn't sure whether Arnold was still bringing Lila or not. I, of course," she directed her grin at Katie, for some reason, "wanted to make sure everyone had a partner, so Mike should be floating around here somewhere."

If I were younger, angrier, more volatile, my glass probably would have shattered in my hand. If I didn't have time on my side, I probably would have called her a straight-up bitch, and spilled my drink on her while I did it.

"Well," Arnold shifted, so his hand was obviously on my arm, instead of hidden behind us, "I got her covered." He said, not letting annoyance slip into his voice like I would have.

Rhonda's, not one to lose out on gossip, eyes flicked down to his hand on me.

"Fantastic." She smiled at all of us, "well…mingle!" She waved her hands at the four of us oddly, then clapped her hands and turned on her heel, sauntering away.

I kind of wanted to chuck my wine glass at her head, but I knew that would definitely get me kicked out of the Adult Snowman.

"She's just starting drama," Arnold whispered quietly, "he's never been at one of these things."

I thought about how calming Arnold's voice was, or maybe it was just his words, for only half a second. Instead of thinking about that, I stepped away from Arnold and downed my drink, like the Real adult I was. I set it on her wooden table, not giving half a fuck if it left a ring. I took a deep breath, and was thankful that Arnold didn't hover over me, and seemingly, had started a conversation with Harold. My throat burned, I was not designed for chugging anymore.

"Did she…" I looked down, and Katie was standing next to me, looking nervous in her pretty yellow dress. She looked nice, springy and sunshiney, in contrast to Rhonda's deep furniture that I was definitely not maturely imagining throwing out of a window.

"She invite my ex to a party she knew I'd be at?" I asked, trying to keep the haughty tone out of my voice. I took a moment, and then shook my head, "I doubt she actually did it, she's just being annoying." _He wouldn't be caught dead here, anyway_ , was the sentence that floated in my mind, but Katie didn't need to know that.

"Harold didn't warn me about her," Katie said, looking around for a place to get a drink of her own, "it was…interesting, coming in."

I opened my mouth to reply, but it ended up hanging open. Rhonda was in the back of the room, doing her fake European kiss thing with none other than, true to her word, Mike.

Katie followed my view point, before shaking her head, "she didn't," she sounded shocked.

"She did," I affirmed. I took a few paces to Arnold, who was discussing Matt with Harold.

I flipped him around, mostly so I could hide from Mike's view, "Arnold," I whispered fiercely, "we gotta get out of here."

He laughed, thinking I was just kidding with him. "I know we said two hours, Helga," he checked his watch, "but it's barely been thirty minut-"

"Arnold," I grabbed his shoulders, "I gotta get out of here. Mike is actually here."

Two hours of awkward conversation and heels?

Sure.

A reunion with the possible, but not definite, father of my child?

An absolute, hell and back, slam dunked, fuck out of here, _no_.

Arnold turned around, away from me, and I could see the polite person in him twitching. It was rude to leave without saying goodbye, also we left Gerald somewhere in there, and I got the feeling they never braved one of these things without the other.

Rhonda wasn't exactly wrong when she called them low-key married themselves.

I stepped around him, at the exact right time to see Harold mouth "go," at Arnold. He wrapped a protective arm around Katie, "I'll make something up." He shrugged.

I had never, in my entire life, felt particularly fond of Harold Berman, up until that moment.

And so, me and Arnold were power walking out of the building, and I wasn't even thinking about him, or the work I was going to do tomorrow, or Luke's time at the campground, I was so distracted.

Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd was now, officially, on my shit list.

A place you do not want to be.

And part of me, the angry part that lived in my throat, the part that used to get too drunk in college, knew she did it because of fucking _prom night_. Because of a lousy-ass prank on _prom night_. _Seven years ago_. It was _beyond_ petty.

I hated her _more_ for it.

I had managed to be a few steps ahead of Arnold in my fury, despite his height advantage, and stopped only when he grabbed her arm. I hadn't even realized he was talking to me.

"Wanna grab a drink?" He asked, a tentative, apologetic smile written all over his face. If his hair hadn't looked so goddamn angelic, golden under the the haze of the street lamp behind him, falling over his face, looking almost like it did in high school, then I wouldn't have said yes.

…But it did.

* * *

 _a/n i hope you're having fun, this is so fun for me to write. thank you so much if you review, it makes my heart soar. love you all,_

 _k. xx_


	8. Chapter 8

I downed my manhattan faster than I would like to admit that I did. Arnold watched me with concern. "So," I set my empty glass on the bar in front of us, ignoring his little twisted up with anxiety face. We had driven five minutes out of Rhonda's posh ass neighborhood until we hit a bar down the road "how many bears are in the woods?"

"…what?"

"You heard me, Football Head," I tapped my hand on the bar in between us in between each word, "how. many. bears. are. in. the. woods?"

"I," he took a polite sip of the mellow beer he ordered, considering he had to drive us back somewhere, probably to pick up my car. I wanted to get drunk enough that I wouldn't have to drive it home. That was part forgetting Mike…part me hating driving. It was boring and there's always the possibility of hitting a squirrel. I hit a squirrel once. I named her Mipsy and I buried her in leaves. I hummed Amazing Grace, even, but I wasn't entirely sure what Amazing Grace sounded like so I hummed half Amazing Grace and half the national anthem of Genovia which I later learned is not actually a real country, and that is in fact the national anthem of Canada. "I don't know how many bears are in the woods, Helga."

"You're telling me," I jabbed a finger into his chest, "that you sent my son into the woods without a proper bear count?!"

"..a proper bea- what?!" His face twisted, sickeningly, cutely, from confusion to amusement, I wanted to smash his face into the bar, "Helga," he grabbed my finger, "you say that like it's a thing people do. No one goes into the forest and counts bears."

"Damnit, Arnold," I twisted my hand out of his grasp and slapped it on the bar, "we shoulda' counted the bears!" I then gestured silently to the bartender that I'd like another.

"You can't-" Arnold laughed, "you can't just…count the bears."

"You-" I dropped my chin into my palm propped up on my elbow "my friend, are small minded." I dropped my face completely on to my arms, lying on the counter. "My sons gonna get eaten by a _bear_ " I whined.

"Helga," Arnold put a hand on my shoulder, "no one is going to get eaten by a bear."

"Maybe they wouldn't have if we had bothered to count-" I said bitterly into the counter, "like _normal people_."

"I-" Arnold was going to continue to argue with me, but he must have thought better of it, he grabbed his beer and took another sip "you're right, Helga. Next time we'll count the bears."

"Really?" I sat up, eager little grin on my face.

"…no." He replied with a smirk.

I would have replied, but my new drink was in front of me, so I picked that up instead.

"So," he said after a healthy pause of nursing drinks. Which was really the oddest expression, and I made a mental note to literally never use it again it sounded fucking gross. "You never talked to Mike about…"

"No," I shut him down quickly, taking another gulp of the manhattan. This was why I talked about bears, Arnold, because I didn't want to talk about this.

"It's," he twirled his finger around the rim of his glass, "it's your decision. But…as your friend, who is-" He shrugged, "not in an entirely different boat than you." He took another gulp. My glass was nearly empty again, and that was sad because his was still halfway full. "It would have made me very, very sad to never know Matt."

I wanted to groan and throw my head into the bar or remind Arnold that Mike is a very different person than him or do anything than what I did which was down the rest of my drink and then hiccup. Hiccups are never good responses to anything. Arnold watched me do it, eyes falling over me quietly, and I could have stood up and sang a hymn in thanks when his phone rang…just not Amazing Grace.

He answered it quickly, wincing at the name, which only indicated it was Gerald. I watched him listen intently, and then start to smile, and then grin, and try to explain where we were.

I had no formal idea what the hell Gerald was on about but Arnold's face was tight with amusement. That might have been the beer, in part. The skin by his eyebrows was glowing with a peach flush. A little sweat had collected in his hairline, probably because he kept shoving his hand through it. He leaned unto the counter, either not noticing or not caring that his puddle was sitting in a puddle of condensation.

"No, Ger-" he laughed like it was a cough, low & under his breath "we're not _there_ , we're at Marty's."

"WHAT-" I heard his shout through the phone "Man, fuck you-" I felt my nose twitch up involuntarily, an honest to God snicker bubbling up under my breath.

I snatched the phone from him, ignoring Arnold's golden grin at me.

"Just leave,"I told him, end of my statement trailing off in an additional giggle. "Rhonda sucks anyway."

"We're two rounds into Yahtzee," Gerald's miserable voice crackled through the receiver "and I'm one dice on the floor away from ending it all."

"It's die," I corrected.

"…What?"

"The word you're looking for," I clarified, "it's die."

"…I'm gonna die, Pataki."

"Stop telling Gerald to kill himself," Arnold admonished, gently reaching for his phone.

"I would _never_ -" I winked at the bartender, whose name is not actually Marty, it was Dave, as his name tag said, which was disappointing. Or maybe he _was_ Marty and he was under cover. Or maybe Marty wasn't even real- but then I quickly realized I was wandering down a path of nihilism of which there would be no quick return. I picked up up my drink like there was something left in it, keeping up my cool facade with Dave/Marty.

"Come on Gerald," he grinned, twinkling like an annoying, adorable sparkler. I wanted to set him on fire, "man up." He winked at me.

I was inspired, probably not by the wink, but perhaps so. It was more likely that the inspiration derived from the mildly scantily clad women entering the bar behind Arnold. It hit me so quickly. My mind was like a rabbit…ever constantly moving forward. A rabbit on a treadmill. It hit me almost as quickly as a rabbit losing it's footing and flying backwards off the treadmill.

It also hit me almost as quickly, like a slightly slower animal flying off a treadmill, that there was no way I could tell Arnold about it or he'd try and stop me.

I nicked the phone back from him, "I'll save you Gerald, hold tight we'll be there soon-" I ended the call on Gerald's asking for clarification, sliding the phone back in Arnold's hand. "I'll be right back I have to powder my elbows or something," I ruffled his hair, "finish that," I said pointedly, sticking my finger out at his drink.

I sauntered away, maybe enjoying that his eyes were on me as I left to stand outside, but possibly more enjoying the whisky.

My plan was definitely stupid, and immature and I didn't care at all. That's just how I did revenge- in my own style. I was grinning at my phone, antics felt so, so sweet.

Arnold followed me out a few moments later, after my task was done and I was delightedly tapping away details. He took one look at my devilish smirk, and he knew he was in trouble. He smiled anyway, and it made my heart glow- there was my Arnold.

"So," he asked tentatively, "are we actually going to rescue Gerald?"

"Of course-" I drawled politely, "what do you take me for, some kind of liar?" I was tilting on my feet, and realized I had downed those two drinks faster than I thought I would. Arnold blinked at me. Like the cutest little high beam in the night you've ever seen.

"…whatever you say, Helga." He sighed with the tiniest breadth amusement lying under his tone.

* * *

I had accepted, in that car ride, that going back to the party meant a lot more than fucking with Rhonda. Going back to the party meant dealing with the past, and suddenly I felt equipped to handle Mike. Whisky is one hell of a pep talk.

"Hey, Arnold," I asked quietly in the car- getting back to Rhonda's was more of a production than getting to Marty's because roads are fucking stupid, "did I hear someone say Rhonda's birthday was soon?"

"Yea, actually-" he nodded, scrubbing a hand through his hair again, "next week, I think, or something like that. Why do you ask?"

I tried to shrug innocently. "No reason." I washed the trees spin by, trying to remind me that that definitely did not make me want to vomit, and that I should definitely be able to hold my liquor better.

"Helga… _what did you do_?"

"Let's just say-" and it was probably the whisky doing all of the saying at that moment, "that there's nothing I do better than revenge." I tried to devilishly, furtively, glance out the window.

"…that's a Taylor Swift song."

"How," I sat up quickly, staring him down, "did you know that."

He had a little, secret smile, "Mere loved Taylor Swift. I wouldn't pin you for it," his eyes jumped over to me, "but, cute."

I pouted, crossing my arms and sinking into my seat, "you've squashed my fun I hope you're happy." We were pulling back into her little posh development.

"If you told me what you did I'd be a lot happier." He was scoping out parking, finding that lo and behold, his parallel spot was still open, and he eased backwards into it.

"We're all adults here," I shrugged, still sunk into my seat, "she wanted an adult party, so I'm giving her one."

He squinted at me, "what does that mean?" He did the little parky-thing, the one I literally fucking hated, with ease. Which was annoying and attractive all at once. I failed my drivers test twice because of the goddamn two step dance routine you do in a parallel parking space.

"Nothing," I said calmly, unbuckling my seatbelt as he shut off his car, "it means nothing Arnold, now be an adult and hide in the bushes with me."

* * *

This was going to be a longer wait than I thought, I realized a few moments into bush hiding. We probably should have just stayed at the bar, but I was four shots in and everything was fucking hilarious, especially the SnapChats we were sending Gerald of us in the bushes acting out The Lord of the Rings, to his complete confusion and his demanding texts to know where the fuck we were.

"He's pissed at me," Arnold wheezed as I made a gollum face from between two of the bushes, "he's going to hit me with something when we go inside."

I whacked him with a spare branch I accidentally broke in an attempt to be Gandalf, "no," I chastised him, "no divergence from the plan, no doubting the leadership, now say the pledge of allegiance." I commanded, with my stick turned wand. "OF THE SHIRE," I whisper shouted at him. If anyone from the party decided to take a walk, we were decidedly fucked, but we were having too much fun, my face hot from quiet, under my breath giggles.

"Helga," he grabbed the back of my neck which would have been more intimate if I weren't making a Gandalf face still, "there is no pledge of allegiance for the shire."

"You-" I grabbed his face, "are a traitor to the cause." And then I heard the sound of wheels on gravel and I jerked away, and peeked over the bushes with insipid delight. "They're heeere-" I whispered, in a way that might have been creepy if it weren't Arnold sitting next to me.

"Who's he-" he leaned up, breaking off mid sentence.

This only enhanced my delight.

"Helga," Arnold watched the van roll up in astute horror, "please, please tell me you didn't." It was black with SASHA'S ADULT ENTERTAINMENT written in bright pink script on the side. If the light were better, I would have taken a picture of it in front of Rhonda's house.

"Did you see me do anything?"

"…No…" He replied softly, as if he were watching a car crash, or more specifically, a man and a woman dressed in a fake police uniform stroll up to the house. She was wearing GoGo boots…I loved every moment of it.

"Then I," I whispered, "am scot free." I stood up from the bushes, "and I certainly did not not spend any money on this to not get to watch," I brushed off the hem of my dress, reaching a hand down to Arnold, "so, let's go."

* * *

The inside was chaos, as Rhonda, as any adult would respond, had assumed the police officers were actually police offers and allowed them into her household. Of course, she was completely questioning the GoGo boots, and then watched in horror as they tossed their hats back and forth from each other, and then promptly plopped one on Rhonda's head. I shut the door behind me, leaning back against it with a coy smirk.

"We went for a walk," I mouthed at her, "nice patio-" I did an okay symbol with my hand and winked. "What's this-" I looked innocently between the 'officers' and joy mercy- he had already ditched the shirt.

She shrieked, which he must have taken as encouragement, as he swung it around his head twice, and then threw it at her face.

Arnold guwaffed behind me, and Gerald was practically having an actual conniption in the corner. Harold had a polite fist shoved into his mouth at laughter, and I looked down next to him, where his lady friend Katie, was shaking her head at me, but with approval. "Nice" She mouthed with a cute, giant grin on her tiny face.

The best part, however, was watching the faces of everyone else in attendance to this party. Which was, complete horror at first, complete shock and awe at the situation. At them, sitting there with their little wine glasses and their necklaces they got for anniversaries, and there were strippers in front of them, at their little adult party. They were so uptight, I could help but snorting into my hand.

But what was funnier- was the moments after. When the laughter started, when some guy turned their boombox up, when the ladies downed their wine glasses and then they laughed, full-heartedly, and only some wrinkled their noses up. When husbands pulled wives to dance, probably dance as they hadn't since college, the _horror_.

Okay, that might have been second to Rhonda. Rhonda had tried to, kindly, return that gentleman's shirt, which he also completely misread, and had wrapped it around her, dancing with her. She was horribly flustered, hands flying up in a whirlwind around her, batting him away.

The music got louder, and I heard corks popping open and wine being poured more abundantly.

Rhonda's eyes caught with mine and the best part about it was my revenge was making her dumbass party _better_ and she _hated_ it.

"ARNOLD, MY MAN-" Gerald was shouting, dancing oddly across the room, "DANCE WITH ME." And that was the end of that, the caucus rose as they started clumsily, laughing loudly and raucously, dancing together.

"Strippers," I heard a low voice by my ear, and honestly the whisky in my belly and the laughter in my heart and the amusement at my own cleverness outweighed any sinking in my stomach that would have previously appeared, "clever."

And I had only paid for 15 minutes, because I wasn't made of money, so his pants were slowly coming off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RHONDA was written across his cheeks in ruby red lipstick.

"…nice touch," Mike nodded quietly.

I sighed, and looked up at him, acknowledging my fun was officially over and now the terrible reality that adult-ing was was beginning, "wanna take a walk?" I asked him flatly.

* * *

"So," Mike said, lighting a cigarette as we stood outside. I wanted it to be cold, or something, so I had a reason to shrink into myself, wrap my hands over my arms. However, it was the middle of June and not cold in the slightest, so I kept shifting, hands on my hips, arms crossed. He was annoyingly calm. "It was a boy, I hear."

I sighed. "Yes," I nodded, shutting my eyes, letting my hands fall to my sides. "It _is_ a boy, his name is Luke."

There was a long pause while he took another drag on his cigarette. "Alright," he coughed, settling the cigarette between his fingers, looking down at me. I was attempting to look at anything else, the trees lining the suburban neighborhood, the sky which you couldn't see anything as it was relatively cloudy that night, the bricks…the grass, anything but him. "Be…be honest with me, what are the odds that he's…" he paused, choosing his wording tenderly. He had matured, in the last 7 years, " _biologically_ mine."

I licked my lips, and looked up at him, at his brown eyes that were just starting to sink into his skin, "Two out of three shot," I told him honestly. His lashes were still full and dark, his hair cut was much more reasonable. I could see the beginnings of a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm, which was hardly surprising. He had a strong jawline, outline in speckles of five o'clock shadow.

"Helga," His eyes were sad, and he sighed again. He looked away from him then. He propped a foot up against the side of Rhonda's wall, taking another slow drag from the cigarette. After blowing it out, he said rather hastily, "Helga…we have to know."

And, yeah- I thought it might come to that.

I thought of Arnold, earlier that day, hugging Sophie and Matt tightly. Mike was…pretty obviously not destined for fatherhood the way Arnold was, but…

It was unfair of me to take away his shot.

"Look-" I spun back to him. "Luke doesn't know about you."

"What," He looked down at me again, "what did you even tell him?"

"That his father was a far, far way away. And that he loves him."

"Christ, Helga-" he stood up to his full height hastily, "the kid thinks I'm _dead_?"

"I don't know _what_ he thinks." I spit back angrily, "I'm not Luke- I'm his mother. And he trusts me enough to believe what I've told him is truth enough as he can handle, alright?"

He paced away from me, taking a few quick drags, muttering under his breath. I suddenly, and all too clearly, remembered why I dumped his ass in the middle of the senior high parking lot.

"Look." I said fiercely. He stayed facing the other way. My resentment grew, "oh for fuck's sake, Mike, you want to be involved with a child? You can't fucking act like one-"

"That-" he turned around bitterly, jabbing a finger in my direction "is so unfair."

"Do you even have a job?" I asked hostiliy. It was petty, and I didn't even know where it came from, but it flew out of my mouth.

" _Does that matter_ -" His voice was raising to meet mine, and I didn't realize mine had risen until he spoke heatedly, "but I- of course, I mean-" he stammered, taken back by the comment, "of course I have a _fucking job_ , Helga, you can _fuck right off_ for asking."

"FINE!" I yelled back at him. "I'D LOVE TO." I wanted to walk, no- storm, storm right on past him, and then point a magic finger at the sky and have an actual storm follow me. But I wasn't Hermione Granger, and there was a man in my path.

"HELGA-" He slammed a fist on the wall in frustration, "FUCK! You are SO IRRITATING." He stayed there for a moment, hand on the wall, cigarette burning down to his fingers in his other hand. He smoked the last of it, stubbing out on the side of their nice wall, and dropped it to the grass below him. He looked up at me, eyes red rimmed and angry, and he spoke in a stoic, calm voice "we have to know" he reiterated.

I wasn't done fighting, I wanted to yell and scream some more, maybe throw a good right hook, but I knew, in the very bottom of my core, that he was right. That yelling my throat sore wouldn't make me Luke's only parent.

We did _have_ to know.

"He doesn't see you," I replied calmly, feeling my pitch drop below it's relatively low level to begin with. I felt the rawness in my throat, unpracticed in yelling from a quiet home life. "He doesn't see you, he doesn't know who you are, he doesn't know you exist unless-"

"I want it that way," he cut me off.

Neither of us knew how to go back inside, so we just stared at each other.

* * *

 _a/n._

 _i. i don't have explanations for you if you're looking for one i just don't have it. i love writing this, i hope you guys dont mind the break! it's gonna be more frequent updates, i promise. thank you v v much if you leave reviews, they make my heart smile & mean the world to me! love you all, thanks for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

i dropped it off

I texted Mike quickly and shoved my phone into my pocket as if I had a fear of getting caught. I didn't even know by whom, but I was glancing furtively down the hall of the hospital anyway as I headed back to the main part so I could get the hell out of there. When Arnold mentioned having a day off while the boys were camping, I didn't imagine spending in in a hospital. I also didn't imagine scraping my son's hair off a pillow to put in a little baggy and give to the woman who was most definitely side-eying me, either. Whatever, Deborah could fuck off with her judgy-ass glances.

"Helga?" I heard a call and damn it what was with this town and being half the size of my pinky? Unfortunately ducking and rolling wasn't so much of an option in a hospital, so I stomped around and faced the music.

A sunny Phoebe in blue scrubs was blinking at me from what felt like the floor because damn if Phoebe wasn't still short. She had her hair pulled back from her face in these two sparkly clips and I was dazzled by it, because I don't know how anyone managed to keep track of one clip, let alone two. That _matched_.

"Phoebe?" I raised my eyebrows, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm interning," she pointed at the little badge clipped to her bag, grin on her face. "Why won't you answer my calls?"

"Calls?" I fidgeted awkwardly. "Haven't been getting them."

"Oh, really?" Phoebe might as well have said that she didn't believe me but we indulged in the excuse anyway.

"Yeah, I don't have my phone."

"What?"

"I dropped it in the ocean," I said quickly, as if it were a reasonable excuse. I was ready to my head into the glass windows, "while…jetskiing."

Phoebe was giving me a flat look. "Answer," she hit me with her clip board. "I want to catch up."

"Yeah," I walked a few steps over to the wall to lean against it and get out of someone's way, "why is it that everyone seems so gung-ho on doing that? Trust me, it's just not that interesting,"

MISTAKE, I had piqued Phoebe's interest. She crossed her arms, clipboard pressed into her chest, "who's everyone?" She asked with a delighted little smirk.

"No one."

" _Helg_ -"

"The shark who ate my phone."

"Phoebe?" A man in a white coat stepped around the corner of a patient's room, "a word?" He stepped back inside.

She hit me with the clipboard again- _ow_ , when did Phoebe get so _violent_ , "answer." She threatened, pointing an adorable little finger at me and all but skipping back into the room the doctor disappeared into.

I couldn't help the smirk that escaped my mouth as I left the hospital, but it definitely wasn't Phoebe's doing, no. I just couldn't wait to be somewhere where I could smell literally anything other than hospital smell.

* * *

I was only half way through the paperwork I let pile up because technical writing was just so _fun_ and I didn't have an 8 year old. My phone rang with an unfamiliar number and I barely even looked up before swiping to answer it.

"Hey, you've got Helga," I said, striking a line I had written with red ink, because it sounded like it was written by a monkey with a typewriter.

" _Pataki_ , hey!" And it was like my phone was a tiny portal and everything was on fire and I was in hell, "come out with us tonight." I glanced around my room, swearing that it was getting hotter even though I knew it wasn't.

"Gerald," I said flatly, "how did you get my number?" I could almost imagine my dresser was a rectangle shaped demon, if I squinted hard enough.

"Unimportant," he diverted, and I rolled my eyes. "Come out, we're going somewhere."

"Where?" I asked, wondering why I was even entertaining the idea.

"Somewhere."

"I saw you guys yesterday," I whined. I didn't want to sound whiny, it just came out and I really did see them yesterday and I didn't want to do more socializing with people I barely tolerated.

"…for like, three hours."

"Two hours and fifty five minutes too long, if you ask me."

"I'm gonna be at your house at 6 to pick you up," I groaned but he kept talking "get your shoes on!"

"Now?" I asked, glancing at the clock that told me it was just barely two o'clock.

"Well, not now," I could hear his eye roll through the phone. "But when I'm there, shoes."

"…did you think I was just going to leave my house without shoes on?" I inquired, snorting and grabbing a handful of goldfish from my nightstand. I shoved them into my mouth. "Is that something you do often?"

"Shut up, Pataki. I'll see you at 6."

"Alright, Gerald, don't forget to put on pants-" he hung up on me, which, rude, because I was not the one that called him, or made any demands to see him, or oddly implied that if i didn't remind him to put shoes on he wouldn't. Sensitive ass.

* * *

"For the record," I muttered as I opened my door, "I still think this is stupid and I object." I was wearing jeans and a sweater with my hair on in a crazy messy bun top of my head because heels were enough last night to last me the rest of the year.

"Yea, yeah, we know-" Gerald was standing on my steps, wearing a black v-neck sweater and a smug grin, Arnold just a step behind him.

"While we're speaking on the record," Arnold cleared his throat, "I told him to give it a rest."

"And I told _him_ to fuck off," Gerald shrugged, "and there is no one recording us here, so there is no record."

I leaned against my door frame, trying to feign annoyance to the best of my ability, "where exactly are we going?"

Gerald shrugged, "wherever the wind blows us," he tried to reach for my forearm.

"Uh-uh," I jumped back from his grip, making to shut my door even though the only plans i previously had for the night were Gilmore Girl reruns and frozen taquitos, "no, I'm not wandering around the night with you two when I could have a glass of wine and frozen taquitos." I winced because i didn't really mean to voice the taquito thing out loud. I hated bars anyway, why would I want to go get drunk somewhere and be judged by annoying people and pay extra money for it? That was a lose-lose to me, terrible idea, whoever made it up should seriously reconsider their life choices.

"Alright," Gerald shoved, pushing past me and into my home, "I guess it's a girl's night in," he dropped his keys on my couch, wandering past it into the kitchen "where the taquitos at?"

Arnold stopped at the top of the steps, "I am…" He glanced down the hall to make sure Gerald was preoccupied, _in my house_ , "so sorry." Gerald was humming in my kitchen, the tune to a song from Frozen, I was pretty sure. Luke saw it once and when I saw him singing the song about love is an open door and jumping from couch to couch, we never spoke of it again. "We've been doing the same thing for weekends for months now, I think he's just bored."

"If I light him on fire," I warned, definitely Not imagining Arnold as the cute mountaineer from frozen, "I'm framing you for it." Arnold would look good in those weird pointy boots- not that I was thinking about it.

"Y'all got Frozen?" Gerald leaned around the corner from my kitchen, "I'm preheating the oven, but I am DEFINITELY feelin' a movie musical tonight, y'all."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tired Arnold smack his forehead with his palm.

* * *

I did not have Frozen but I did have the Lion King so we settled for that. Gerald was pacing around my living room during the open number. "Where's your cat at?" He asked, looking under my coffee table.

"What?" I crossed my legs under me, shuffling into my couch more, cradling my glass of wine as if it were my last link to any form of sanity, because it probably was, "I don't have a cat."

"A dog?"

"No."

"…parakeet?"

"What the fuck- Gerald, no, no pets. No animals."

"Well shit," Gerald put his hands on his hips as if I were his child who just ditched my math final to make out with Alice Lloyd behind a bleacher. Which I did, once, but Alice was wearing a tube top so who was really to blame there? "Arnold, stand up, I need something to lift up at the part with Simba."

"Gerald," Tired Arnold had his face in his palm again, "for the love of God, sit down."

"Y'all are truly missing out on a cinematic experience," Gerald pouted as he sat down, "like Rocky Scary Movie Whatever."

Arnold's eyebrows were furrowed, "the one with the boxer?"

I downed my glass of wine.

* * *

Midway through Hakuna Matata and my second glass of wine my phone rang again and I suppose I was just feeling good enough to answer it. Gerald was in the kitchen, waiting for taquitos.

"Yallow?" I asked, sipping again on the wine in my hand.

"Helga!" Phoebe's bright voice chirped back at me. "You answered!"

"Just call it your lucky day, Phoebe Heyerdahl." I sat back into my couch again. "What's on the up and up?" Simba was singing about no worries, I felt kind of inclined to agree with him.

"You've had wine, haven't you?" Her tone was flatter and I snorted.

"Maaaaybe," I sang back at her, sipping again. She laughed on the other line. My grin was leaking into my voice, I could hear it, the warmth of the wine going from my belly to my chest to the tips of my shoulders like some kind of warm and terrible fake tan. That was an awful metaphor, I loved wine though! "What's up, really though?"

"Do you want to come get a drink with me tonight?"

I laughed in my nose again, as if there were a tiny witch controlling my amusement that was just lodged in my nostril, "just come here, it's already a party with the Lion King and everything."

"Oh, is your son home?"

I glanced around my room, Gerald wearing my pink oven mitts and Arnold giving me a side glance that was just wrought with amusement. I kicked him but I wasn't sure why, he was just being annoying. By sitting there.

"No, that's the really fucking sad thing about it."

"Text me an address," She told me quickly.

* * *

I wondered, for a moment, if Phoebe was gonna remember where my house was already. We did hang out here, as kids and later as teenagers. There were certain places I'd always remember the way to, my house from school, the 7-11 I used to get drunk and then walk to to eat zebra cakes. I could, actually, go for a zebra cake in that moment. Then again, very few moments aren't improved by zebra cakes.

I was flipped around, so my feet hung over the top of my couch. "Okay, honest question: you have to answer, no bullshit," I told the guys, Arnold on my left still and Gerald in the arm chair.

"Shoot," He answered, leaning forward into the screen.

"When you were kid was Nala oddly attractive? Like…was she a weirdly hot lion?"

Arnold choked on his drink, and Gerald stood up quickly, and went "oh my god- yes!"

"Right?!" I agreed. "Like what is up with the good looking lions?" I would have nodded but my head was on the cushion. "I bet there's some weird ass freudian psychology about that."

Arnold said nothing, just shook his head and laughed and reached for his cup. I poked him, because I wanted him to admit weird attraction to a cartoon lion. For the sake of camaraderie!

"Man, I don't know-" Gerald said, walking into my kitchen again, "either that or some… _interesting_ animators."

"Get me a zebra cake!" I yelled out to him.

He appeared back around the corner, "get you a what now?"

The doorbell rang. I grinned up at Arnold. He rolled his eyes tiredly, but pushed up from the couch to get it. I snickered, and then maybe imagined what Arnold would look like as an animated lion. Maybe- but only for a moment.

"Arnold?!" I heard Phoebe on the other side of my door, "oh my gosh!" Sounds of a hug pursuing, "what are you doing here?"

"Talking about lions, apparently."

I heard a crash in the kitchen, and I sat up quickly. A bug eyed Gerald was looking out, horrified, over my living room. I squinted at him, mouthing "what?" at him. He didn't respond, looking panicked, and then he pressed himself up against the wall like a secret agent in the worst spy movie ever made. As Arnold and Phoebe joined me in the living room, he crept the other way, just out of eye sight. I watched him go, like a bizarre, enormous, bug, creeping along my wall.

"Hey Phoebe-" I sat up finally, "can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Love one," Phoebe wasn't wearing her little blue scrubs anymore. I heard the sound of my closet door click shut, and I turned around, wary, to look behind me. I saw nothing, though. When I turned back around Arnold was shaking his head, hand on his face, and I realized exactly what made the noise.

"I'll go grab a new bottle," I smiled quickly, before stomping my way over to the closet.

* * *

"I can't believe you've done this to me," Gerald whispered harshly in the closet. I made a note to myself to stop having discussions in this closet. Perhaps if need be I'd turn the piano room into a place where people can lock themselves into to yell at each other, but this closet just was not cutting it. We still were out for a spider quota in this closet.

"Invited my friend over to my house?" I asked him.

"You can't just invite randos into join the group!" He insisted, wiping his face off with the back of his hand.

"Okay, number one: this is my house," I told him plainly. He opened his mouth to retort but I kept talking because he obviously had nothing of value to say we were literally in my house, "number two: we have no group."

"Okay, no- that's bullshit. We're like one beer away from ordering matching bedazzled jackets."

"Can they have gophers on them?" I asked in a low tone.

"Can they be silver?"

"Gold."

"Deal."

"Ugh," He put his face into his hands. "You invited Phoebe here and she's a doctor and she's still pretty and I'm boring AND broke and I look like a homeless person."

I glanced down at his plain sweater. "What homeless people are you hanging out with?"

"What are we even going to talk about?" He asked, putting his fist to his mouth. "I haven't prepared questions."

"We're watching a movie not having a debate."

Gerald got a text, frantically pulling his phone out of his pocket. It was from Arnold, and all it said was would you two get out of the closet its getting awkward out here. Gerald looked up at me. "Can I tell him to come get in the closet?"

"No." I answered plainly.

"If we all hide here, maybe she'll just leave." I gave him a flat look, opening my closet door and all but shoving him out. He stumbled, recovering quickly, and putting his shoulders back with his best I-have-confidence look.

"Seriously, I want to know," I called out after him, "is there like a gang of J Crew hobos running around that I missed out on?"

* * *

For all his anxieties, they barely showed around Phoebe. They were sitting on the couch, Phoebe with a glass of wine in her hand and Gerald perhaps looking at her too often. I watched this with amusement from the armchair.

"So, when was the last time you guys saw each other?" I addressed the room at large, but I could tell by Arnold's grin at me he knew I didn't care if he was there.

"Oh, gosh," Phoebe leaned forward, "I think it was," a flush fell over her face, "Christmas senior year of under grad?"

"Yea," Gerald had his eyes on the ceiling, "sounds about right."

I glanced at Arnold, whose face was tight with some form of amusement and- oh my god Phoebe and Gerald totally hooked up over the holidays. I had friends in college who had serial hook ups with people from home, but I never pinned Phoebe as the type to… I looked at her with an almost pride. My friends from college, grossly, called it christmas stuffing. Phoebe was politely glancing at her lap and Gerald was giving Arnold a very annoyed look and a subject change was definitely in order.

"So, why do you think there's an elephant only graveyard?" I glanced back at the film, "how do they even get the corpses there, or do they have to go there first when they've got a hunch they're gonna die?" Gerald took it as a thankful excuse to talk about something else, but Arnold was giving me a look that said 'where did that even come from, weirdo?'

* * *

"I don't remember this being this violent," Phoebe commented as we neared the end of the film, and the entire fucking savannah was on fire.

"I think everything from childhood was slightly more violent than we remember it being," Arnold added, sitting forward a little.

"I don't know about that," Gerald set his glass down on my coffee table, "we were pretty intense kids. I remember it…okay, better than most people do, probably."

"At least we never lit anything on fire," I commented, sipping from my cup.

Phoebe was blinking at me, "Helga, you lit several things on fire."

"You threatened to light me on fire not," Gerald looked at his watch, "two hours ago."

I rolled my eyes, "everybody's a critic."

* * *

Our evening together passed with very little event other than my complete amusement at Gerald and Phoebe. I wondered if Phoebe was with anyone. I thought about asking her, as I grabbed her coat for her as she was leaving, because I'm nosy and kind of proud of it. I wasn't planning on…interfering, except _maybe_ I was, just a little bit. I held composure because I am and adult who doesn't meddle in affairs that don't concern me and just maybe I was going to text her about it later but we're not all angels, what could I say?

Gerald walked Phoebe out to her car and me and Arnold sat on the couch with a conspiratle little smirk, and when he returned, he had this dumbass smile on his face.

"I can't believe," Arnold had the closest thing I've ever seen on his face to an arrogant look on his face, "you still have a thing for Phoebe," he crossed his arms, a little mirth spreading across his pink, tipsy face. It was attractive and therefore irritating. My lamp was behind his head so I wanted to take the shade off and shove it on him, but I realized with further delight it probably wouldn't even fit.

"Arnold," Gerald turned around from my doorway, " _I_ can't believe," he mimicked, "that outta all the things you could try and roast me for, you go with that."

Arnold blinked at him, almost innocently, "what do you mean?"

He stared back and forth in between us. "You know Arnold, there are times when I really do hate your dumbass."

* * *

 _a/n sooooorry i took forever im the worst. hi everyone i missed u n this and i hope you liked it or laughed or something! love u all very much and thank you so much if you leave reviews they make me laugh & keep me goin! thanks all!_


	10. Chapter 10

I was sitting cross legged on my kitchen counter that Monday morning. On my right on the floor was a blanket spread out. There was a tiny Miss Rosie sitting there, entertaining herself beautifully with various crayons and dolls. I wondered, for a moment, if Arnold knew how lucky he was with that. Luke required near constant entertainment at that age. Speaking of Arnold- he was on a ladder by my counter, fiddling with my light fixture. Light fixture is a generous word. It was a lightbulb hanging haphazardly from my ceiling. I called it warehouse fire-hazard chic. The look would probably be popular on Pinterest- right along with those posts that explain how distress perfectly good furniture for a shabby-chic look. Because _that_ made a _ton_ of sense.

"So," I said, more firmly wrapping my hands around my obnoxiously large, round coffee mug, "tell me the Gerald/Phoebe dirt." The mug was covered in ugly, fading yellow followers and had chips in the top. It was still my favorite, I loved mugs that also were hand warmers.

"Dirt?" Arnold snorted, taking a step down the ladder to glance out my window at our sons. They had come back even more inseparable than before. I was kind of hoping they'd have a blow-out fight about flashlights or sleeping bags or whatever goes on in the forest…or Power Rangers, or something. But not really, because Luke didn't even like Power Rangers, I didn't even think they were even a thing anymore, and really- I wanted him to be happy.

"They used to come home on the holidays and occasionally hook up," Arnold shrugged, messing around in the tool box on the counter by my legs, "Gerald told her he really wanted her to know that she was special to him," He found whatever he was looking for, I think. He twirled the wrench, or whatever metal tool it was, I had no idea, around his fingers. "He was trying to," He reclimbed the ladder, looking up, like the words to say were written on the ceiling, "well, you know." He had his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, re-examining his previous work. He then laughed, leaned on the ladder, and looked back down to me. "And she said 'Thanks Gerald, you're a great friend to me, too."

I choked on my coffee, attractively spitting it into my hands. Arnold laughed above me. "Yikes!" I exclaimed through saliva and amusement, "That's," I coughed, "rough."

He jumped off the ladder, "you okay?" he asked, ripping some paper towels off my spinning rack. He had this amused, good natured smile on his face when he handed them to me. I was finding it harder and harder to find it annoying.

I took them from him aggressively, "you're such a _dad_ , Arnold," I teased, wiping off my hands.

He leaned on my counter, "you know I try." He looked over to Sophie, who was quite involved in whatever was going on in her drawing. He waited a moment for her to look up at him, but she had no time for _Dad_.

I watched him, "you enjoy it, don't you?" He glanced out my window at our boys, running around in circles on my back lawn.

"Yea," he mused quietly, small grin blossoming on his face, "yea, I really do."

"So," I barked loudly, interrupting this irritatingly warm moment we were having, "what are we gonna do about Gerald and Pheebs?"

He gave me a wary look, "what are you proposing we do?"

"I'm not proposing anything," I said innocently, sipping my coffee again…ignoring that it probably had my own spit in it. Whatever, there was my own spit in my mouth. I wanted to think being a mom made me grosser, but that probably wasn't true.

"You have that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"That look you get when you're scheming."

"I know of no such look."

"Well, it is on your own face." His face cracked into a smile again. He picked up his wrench, magic metal wand, whatever it was, and reclimbed the ladder, "hard to see your own face, you know?"

"I just think with the right push…"

"You just want to meddle," he teased without looking down to me. I was glad I didn't have to pretend to be offended. It was true…I loved to meddle. So, what? If all situations could go better if I just got sort-of involved, then what did it matter?

"Why shouldn't I?" I said haughtily, "I heard the last couple I meddled with turned out beautifully," I raised my eyebrows over my cup of coffee, feeling like a wonderfully quirky television best friend, even though he wasn't even looking at me, "kids and everything."

He got whatever wire he wanted connected connected, he grinned, "you're gonna do this with or without me, aren't you?"

"Well, yes…" I shuffled around a bit so my weight wasn't resting on the same foot. I was wearing grey sweatpants and a long sleeve light pink t-shirt, still not a queen of fashion, "but having an accomplice is more fun."

He groaned as he came down the ladder to grab the actual light fixture I bought at Home Depot- not even Ikea, I was personally impressed with myself, so he could install it. "Alright," he said, climbing up one more time, "what are you thinking?"

"Well, does Gerald have any secret fetishes?'

"I'm telling you right off the bat," his tongue was out in concentration again, "I'm not answering that."

* * *

Two days later, a sunny Wednesday afternoon, Luke and I were building some sort of structure out of popsicle sticks. I use the word structure loosely. I thought we were building a castle, but about 15 minutes into the event I became distinctly aware that Luke was going for mid Manhattan. At the present moment, it most closely resembled a gas station.

"Should we put a window in?" Luke asked, gesturing to the little structure we were working on next to the bigger one.

"Do we know how?" I asked. Luke shrugged, continued gluing sticks to the wall. "How hard can it be?" I added, shrugging, myself.

Apparently- very. Our little tiny house, gas station, thing, collapsed. Along with it our dreams. Or my dreams. Luke did not seem very affected by this, he continued to color popsicle sticks to look like people, despite they would have no place to live. Not that a gas station would have been much of a home, but it's still a roof. Popsicle stick houses were more difficult than I expected them to be. People could probably get degrees for this nonsense.

My phone rang, lighting up with Phoebe's photo. I grinned at it momentarily, Phoebe's popsicle stick house probably wouldn't have collapsed.

"'yallo?" I answered, tucking it in between my ear and my shoulder. Luke looked up curiously for only a moment, before gluing his homeless stick figures to the cardboard sidewalk.

"Hey, Helga-" Phoebe sounded a little out of breath. I imagine hospital work was very difficult. "You called, and I was gonna assume it was an accident-" I probably deserved that, so I didn't bother with being offended by it, "but I thought I'd check anyway. What's up?

I had glued three sticks to the ground before they collapsed. I groaned. "Do you know anything about popsicle stick house construction." I deadpanned, before shaking my head and rubbing my hand on my face. Mistake- it was covered in glue and sticky.

"Do I, what-"

"Nevermind, I'm just being crazy. What I meant to ask was 'do you want to come over for dinner?" I looked at Luke, asking for his tiny opinion on the matter. Not that I particularly cared, I was the mom here- but we were a team, through and through. He nodded his approval, shaggy hair flying. Jeez- haircut needed, and soon. He held up a thumbs up, but continued coloring with the other hand. A true multitasker. "It's grilled cheese fajita night."

"It's…what?" Phoebe had an amused hint to her voice. I felt bad, for a second, for always speaking in confusing words.

"It's where you layer cheese in between two tortillas and then use that to make the wrap for a fajita." I explained, trying to patiently hold together two popsicle sticks so they'd actually stay. I had no patience for these things. "We made it up last year, it was a stroke of frank genius."

Of course, although I did think all humans deserve to experience grilled cheese fajitas, I had sneaky alternative motives for inviting Phoebe over. Well, as sneaky and alternative as 'wanting to grill her about her love life' was… I wasn't James Bond yet, at any rate. I had the suit for it, though…ready, waiting…in the back of my closet in between the 80's bomber jacket and the prom dress I wore for 30 minutes tops. Anyway- Phoebe did mention someone was with her that day at Home Depot, I just didn't stick around long enough to hear who. Could have been a boyfriend, but could also have been her father… Hell, it could have been a seeing eye dog she was in the process of training, I wouldn't even be surprised, it _was_ Phoebe.

"Meat and cheese always sounds good," Phoebe agreed. "Text me a time!"

* * *

I was chopping veggies in the kitchen, window open, radio playing softly in the background. My hair was swept off my neck in a little clip I found in my mother's bathroom. Luke had gone upstairs a little while ago. I tapped my feet as I hummed along, enjoying, perhaps, a moment of domestic bliss. The breeze floating in through the window was pleasant, I had an actual light fixture in my ceiling, and a glass of cold white wine by my side.

"Mom-" I heard called from around the corner in a non-urgent tone, but still one where he wanted me to come look. It was astonishing, the thousands of ways children could manage to say the word 'mom.' I grabbed my cup, did a skippy little dance step, and walked to the entry way.

"Mom, what do you think?" My son was at the top of the steps. I peered around the corner to look up at him. "Business casual," he had a green polo shirt on it's hanger hanging over the edge of the railing, "or semi- formal," a striped blue shirt and an untied black tie in the other hand.

"I don't understand where you learn these things." I said honestly, staring, aghast, at my son. "And it's Phoebe, bud, it's fine." I wasn't sure if I wanted to disclose that I, myself, was planning on wearing the black leggings and the Star Wars t-shirt I was already wearing.

"Are you gonna wear that?" He squinted at me.

Damn, caught.

"What if I add a cardigan?" I asked honestly.

He put his palm on his face, and shook his head.

* * *

Phoebe came in scrubs, being greeted by my son and I singing a medley of songs from a Muppet Treasure Island. I played it basically since conception, because no son of mine was going to lack appreciation for the Muppets. I heard my front door shut, and I, joyfully, called over my shoulder as I added olive oil to my pan, "Pheebs!" I glanced down to Luke, "go greet her, kiddo."

Luke did as I asked, galloping from the room. I had put on jeans, feeling like it made me look slightly more put together. I added a tortilla to the pan, I could hear Luke and Phoebe walking into the room behind me.

"So you guys were attempting construction this afternoon, I hear?" Phoebe noted, probably, the failed popsicle town on our coffee table in the foyer. We gave up at some point, and now it was mostly a popsicle stick fortress, with nothing having a roof. They dealt with the elements, we were sure, on their own time. It kept them tough. Luke had given them all flat, odd, hats, for the occasion.

"I think we actually created a new form of civilization," I commented, looking over my shoulder at her. "Do you have a cheese preference?"

"I'm all for new ideas of society," Phoebe nodded thoughtfully, "and all cheese is good cheese." That earned a high five from Luke. "Can I help out at all?"

I knew the polite thing to do would be to say 'oh no, I've got it, thank you!' But really, when did I ever give half a fuck about manners? Having big people hands to help-out was a _relief_.

"Yes," I disclosed, "there's chopped veggies in the fridge and meat in the oven, and would you grab the pitcher so Luke can-"

* * *

"So," I began after grilled cheese fajitas were gone, and I ate the left-over cheese with my fingers because I am animal and I love cheese. We spent most of the meal discussing the language and culture of our made-up popsicle civilization, which Luke named "Shark Land." We never got an explanation for the title. There were, as far as I could tell, no sharks there. I gave Luke permission to go watch t.v. in the sitting room after he put the dishes in the wash. It was amazing the way kids flew by doing chores if they were on a time crunch. "How's your life, Pheebs?"  
That was the wrong question, because she began talking to me about the hospital and case studies and stuff that put me to sleep in high school and stuff that continues to put me to sleep now. I tried my hardest not to look like I was day dreaming while she talked, because not day dreaming at all was just too high of a goal and I am not an unrealistic person.

"Are you seeing anyone, then?" I asked during a small lull of medical talk.

"Ah, well-" her face was pink. No, no no- bad sign. Go away, blush. "It's kind of complicated."

I took a sip to hide the fact that I was at all invested in this. I was trying to maintain the image of the simply curious old friend. Complicated was hard. Let me uncomplicate it, dump him, so I can stroke my own ego by setting you up and you'll fall madly in love. See, I already made it simple.

"Oh?" I asked, instead of voicing _any_ of that stream of crazy.

"Well, we've been seeing each other for a couple of weeks," Well, stop that. "But lately, well, I'm not sure…" I was, he's dumb. "It just seems like the excitement's gone?" Good, dump him. "But the stability is kind of nice…" Stability is for balance beams and banks, not relationships. "And I really did like him…"

I wasn't sure what got me so hell-bent on this relationship, other than my own amusement at my own cleverness. Gerald was a good man, if a little annoying. But mostly I maybe wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. Maybe I was a little bit bored, and I wanted to get myself involved in a little bit of adult drama, but that was _beside_ the point.

I opened my mouth to tell Phoebe that despite not knowing this man existed two minutes ago that she could do better, when my phone rang on the counter. I whispered an apology, even though the phone couldn't hear me, and crossed over to pick it up.

Mike's name was on the screen.

Ah, right- I _did_ have a bit of my own adult drama to be involved with, didn't I?

* * *

 _a/n ahhhhhhhh i Will get better at updating this i Promise i always have fun writing it its just getting started on a chapter that's the hardest. thanks for sticking with me and reading!_

 _your reviews and comments help a Lot though- so, if you leave those, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it means a lot & i love you a lot!_

 _all the world-_

 _xx, k._


	11. Chapter 11

"Mooom-" my kid whined outside of my door. I looked around the state of my bedroom- once Miriam's room, and blanched. I was up to my ears in paperwork. I could fill a swimming pool with paperwork. Maybe even one shaped like a guitar.

"Yea, bud?" I replied, airily, glad I left the lock on because my kid did not need to get ideas about what was acceptable room cleanliness. Not that I was particularly awesome at keeping anything tidy…things just never seemed to end up where they belonged. Maybe I had seen Toy Story one too many times, but I wasn't entirely convinced that they didn't move of their own discretion.

Whatever Luke told me in response was garbled by either the wooden door or him being seven, or perhaps it was the papers swallowed it alive.

"Save it for the papers, kiddo-" I tip-toed over the piles of papers, somewhat worried they might conceal some sort of small animal, "I'm," I opened the door, "here. What's up?"

My kid had slumped shoulders. "I'm bored."

I slumped on the door frame. I was wearing grey cropped leggings and a thick knitted sweater I found in the back of Dad's old closet. I had it rolled up ridiculously, but it was about 6 sizes too large still.

I wanted to agree with him, that I was bored too, because I was…paperwork sucks. It was my career but it didn't make it suck less. But I had a lot to do…

But he was making a sad face.

"Alright," I shut my door behind me, "what are we doing?"

"I dunno." He shrugged.

Kids were occasionally infuriating.

* * *

"Girl," I had my hand on Luke's shoulder as we walked past the shop. The _girl_ was called out by some strange woman who was arranging flowers on a stoop, surrounded by black containers containing flowers. I turned around, while, perhaps, on the inside, objecting to being referred to as girl. Had an offspring, in my hand, pretty sure that put me in woman category.

"You're wearing a sweater," she commented. She was not, she was wearing a dress that might very well have been made of bed sheets. I wasn't sure, obviously, I didn't make the dress.

"I am." I nodded.

"It is July."

"It is."

She squinted at me, "that sweater of yours is making me hot just looking at it."

I tilted my head, "have you thought maybe it's not my sweater?" The dress could very easily be flannel. Flannel bed sheets. Ugly ones.

She continued to squint at me…I wasn't sure if that was my queue to leave in this woman's bizarre play, but Luke was curiously watching me.

"Well, we're gonna go-"

"What's your name?"

"My name?" I exchanged a glance with Luke. "Uh-"

"You live here."

"…yes?" I regretted the messy bun. I had all these loose hairs flopping into my eyes.

"I can tell. You walk like you know where you're going." She stood, with a little bit of difficulty, and plopped the flowers into a bin. "You didn't tell me the name."

"…you didn't tell me yours," I replied defensively, crossing my arms. She was giving me a look like I was an idiot. Luke grabbed my sleeve. I glanced at him, then followed his point with my eyes…

There was a large sign over the shop that said VITELLO'S…

"Helga Pataki," I replied with a sigh.

"You had a little brother?!" She asked, wrinkling her face up.

I raised an eyebrow, "no," I ruffled Luke's hair, "but I had a son."

I was preparing myself for the judge-y look that was inevitably going to be gracing the older woman's face. It was a look I grew used to, but not fondly. Like the familiarity of that slushy ish that covered the ground moments after the winter snow fell…I knew of it, well even, but my endearment for it grew not at all.

She, however, was looking at us with a nod. "Tell your mother I said hello," I had no idea Miriam knew…anyone, frankly, "and come by on your way back, pick up some flowers." She opened her door, "housewarming gift."

"How do you know we haven't been here for years?"

She looked back with a sly smile, "I know."

* * *

"Why does everyone here," Luke asked as we shoved open the door to Bigal's…which was supposed to be Big Al's but Al ran out of room on the sign… and now it sounded vaguely Italian, "know you?'

I rubbed my hand on Luke's shoulder, "the walls have ears," I muttered to him conspiratorially. "And we're in a much smaller town than San Francisco now," I admitted as I led him to the counter that we ate at too often. That I had since I was little…considering there was rarely a homecooked meal available at my house.

I rapped my knuckles on the counter, "hey, A.J!" We learned quickly that Al's son, AJ had taken over most of the business that summer. "Are you sleeping back there!?"  
Luke shoved his face in his hands, but I had a right to embarrass him as his mother. I got curious looks from a family sitting a table, but the truckers sitting at the end of the counter didn't look up at all.

"Pataki," A.J. appeared through the swinging doors, heavy set and wearing a dirty hoodie, "you offer a man no rest." He had a close shaved head but a good amount of facial hair, as if all the hair on his head decided it wanted a new view and migrated.

"Tell me about it," Luke mumbled into his hands.

"You know, I rarely," I pinched Luke's ear, "get complaints." I winked at A.J. who put a menu in front of us. I stared blankly at him. "We come here maybe every other day."

"Sometimes every day," Luke added.

"And you insist," I shoved the menu "on continuing this charade."

"You know," A.J. leaned on the counter, "I hold out hope that one day you will eat something other than cheeseburgers…"

"Why?" Luke asked.

"It's futile." I added.

"You know," A.J. snapped up the menu, threw it back in it's little place. It was nice, I was glad the menu had a little home. It could use curtains. I made a mental note to suggest curtains for the menu house one day. He grabbed a pot of coffee from behind him and made his way to fill the cups of the men with the flannels and the hats, "we sell salads."

"Burgers have lettuce on them." I reminded him, "if you squint, it's almost a salad."

"A less sad salad."

"No one knows anything about nutrition," I rolled my eyes, "I promise you we eat veggies. We try and do the food pyramid they keep changing when Luke brings home a new one from school, I had an apple today, God even knows what cholesterol is, can I have my cheeseburger now?"

A.J. rolled his eyes as he walked backwards into the kitchen, "can mine have bacon?" Luke called after him.

I ruffled his hair, "repeat after me: veggies are good."

"Veggies are good," he repeated dutifully.

"Well, look at that. I'm practically mother of the year," I pulled my ringing cellphone out of my bag. It was a patchwork mess I may or may not have purchased from the wife of a vagabond at a truck stop when I was really tired. Whatever, a purse is a purse.

Mike's name was on my phone again. I hit the little red ignore call button, ignored the judging look my phone gave me, and tossed it on the counter.

Then I got to look at my son's little judging face.

"Mom, who are you ignoring? Is it Mum-mum again?" He had a spectacularly pouty face on. It could be patented. If they could bottle it, it might end wars.

I sipped my coffee. "I promise it's not."

"Okay." He said quietly. He unwrapped his place setting. He observed his fork curiously. "What's a payphone?"

I wondered how his mind worked. Also where he learned of payphone's existences. And if there were any functioning payphones left in America.

I opened my mouth to answer when my phone rang AGAIN. I was going to reject the call, but Luke was giving me a look over his fork that he was still examining the chips in. I, with great annoyance, answered my phone

"You are an EXTREMELY persistent man, do you know that?!"

"I…" the voice that did not belong to the man I thought it did laughed, "I am?"

"Arnold," I growled, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Calling my friend's cell-phone?"

"Ah, well…ACH, ugh, I'm-"

"That's an interesting collection of noises you have there."

"Shut up," I told him. Luke stuck out his money hand. "Shut up is not a swear." I told him grumpily. "Except to you, it is to you."

"That's a double standard."

"Eight year olds do not get to understand that concept." I told him with frustration. I sighed aggressively, then said to Arnold, "why are you calling me, other than to observe my sparkling personality?"

"Guess who I just ran into?"

"A stegosaurus."

"No."

"Enya?"

"No."

"That dog that can skateboard?"

"No."

"Well, we've officially run out of people whom I would be remotely interested in so I don't understand-"

"Phoebe."

"…I know of her."

"Phoebe and friend,"

"Ahhh…" I sipped on the coffee. "Okay, you've got my attention."

"I have it on good authority that they will be going out tonight…"

" _Really?_ "

"Fancy a night at the fair?"

"So, like a stakeout?"

"Or…a night with our children at a fair where we may or may not run into Phoebe and her significant other."

"So, we can't sit in a van filled with electronics and peer through windows?"

"Neither of us own a van filled with electronics."

"Can I bring a flashlight and a laser pointer?"

"I'm sure the fair will be perfectly well lit."

"Can I at least wear black?"

"Have you really ever taken my opinion into account on what you wear?"

 _Oh buddy,_ I thought to myself, _you have no idea_.

"5 p.m.?" He asked, "meet at mine?"

"Sounds good," I sipped again, "I will supply the ski masks and black face paint for war stripes."

"I don't think you have any idea what stakeouts are actually like," he snorted, "see you, Helga."

"WELL," I said to Luke as I hung up, "I have good new-" my phone rang again.

I made sure I actually checked the number on my caller I.D. before yelling again.

"MIKE, I KNOW. YOU'RE CALLING ME. I'LL TALK TO YOU WHEN I TALK TO YOU-"

"Helga, I-"

"HAVEN'T YA EVER GONE ON A JOB INTERVIEW!? DON'T CALL ME, I'LL CALL YOU, EVER HEARD OF IT!?" Luke had been my son and no one else's for a solid 8 years… I wasn't sure I was completely prepared for him to be anyone else's. I wasn't prepared for a lot of things.

"You're being insan-"

"MY PEOPLE WILL GET BACK TO YOU-" A.J. was standing in front of us suddenly, behind the counter. He had his insanely bushy eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. "VIVA LA VIDA, OR WHATEVER, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, GOOD BYE." I hung up. A.J.'s eyebrows remained in his hairline.

"WHAT!?" I said, maybe yelled, probably yelled, at his raised eyebrows. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADD YOURSELF TO MY LIST OF-" I shook my phone towards the aforementioned eyebrows, "GENTLEMAN CALLERS?!"

"I have your burger." He raised his hand with the burger.

"Ah, then you-" I moved my napkin so he would have space to set them down, "you can be my only gentleman caller. I'll let my Mama know that I am a _pretty girl_."

"You are a bizarre girl," The bell behind them rang, and the truckers were out the door, "and you scare my customers away."

"You love me," he was shoving his way back into the kitchen, "YOU SHOULD BUY CURTAINS FOR YOUR MENUS!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS."

"SO," I said to Luke, picking up my burger, "feel like hanging out with Matt tonight?"

Luke was already half way through the burger, "yes, please." He said after swallowing.

* * *

It took me being at a small town fair to realize that there are likely more things to hate about small town fairs as there are to enjoy about them. I was currently watching four year olds wiggle in a gazebo because their parents thought if they bought them $40 tap shoes and a $60 recital dress that would buy them the ability to tap dance. And not what I was watching, ineffective wiggling. The fair was in the vacant lot of the shopping mall, and there were rides and things and far too many noises. And so far, not nearly enough Phoebes.

Rosie, however, was wiggling in place in front of us. Arnold had his hands in his pockets, watching her with an amused lilt. It was almost cute enough to not be nauseated by the smell of fried foods and the enormous amount of sweat in the air.

"Do you," I leaned down to her, "want to dance, Ms. Rosie?"

She put her thumb in her mouth, and then quickly took it out, and she nodded.

"Well, I can't dance…but I am a good wiggler," I offered her my arms. "Shall we?"

She did a hoppy little jump into my arms, and I hoisted her into the air with a little bit of effort.

"Mom, no one else is dancing." Luke grabbed my sweater.

"Luke, babe, if I teach you only one thing," I booped my finger on Rose's nose. She giggled. Her hair was curly and crazy, all over her face. I wanted to soothe it away, but I figured it had already made a happy home there, "it's to not care what anyone else is doing."

They were playing a song called Boogie Shoes, which was an apt name for the song. I began to rock back and forth, swaying Rosie back and forth as she giggled. I giggled too. My dance moves morphed. I was doing some kind of odd amorphous wiggle of the pony, but we were laughing.

A hand tugged on my sweater.

"Can I," a nervous Matt was looking at me. He looked back to his Dad, who nodded at him quickly and mouthed the words he wanted to say, "cut in?"

I set Rosie down so they could dance. Matt grabbed Rose's hands, and did a dance move surprisingly close to the Twist. I stepped back, watching them with an amused grin. Luke stood by Arnold's pants, an odd look on his small features. His eyes looked bigger and bluer than they normally did.

I was going to ask him if he wanted to dance, even though I knew he'd turn my down, when Rose broke out from her brother, continuing to wiggle on her own so she wasn't holding his hands. She seemed to hold hers out towards Luke, and Matt turned around. He waved his hands encouragingly, for him to join them.

He looked, for a moment, like he wanted to protest, like his mother would have at his age. But then his face broke out into a broad smile, and he ran forward, to his friends. It was like I had managed to make a copy of me and we weren't similar at all. A failed clone.

I shook her head, laughing at him, at the fair, at the guy in high school that was for some reason dressed like an ice cream come a couple of yards away. I laughed at it all, and my phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Shall we," Arnold's voice came in by my ear, a warm hand on my back. I could barely notice it, I was too busy reading the text on her screen. "What?" he must've noticed my face.

I, wordless, held out my phone to him, so he could read the texts for him to read. It was from Mike.

"Hey, Helga.

It was driving me crazy not letting you know. You haven't changed, just so you know.

I'm sorry, I wasn't…

Nevermind.

Look, the test came back negative.

Luke isn't mine."

Our dancing had created a small sea of dancing, parents with their kids, couples with each other. They swayed clumsily, in and out of each other. An uncoordinated sea for an uncoordinated world.

"I…" Arnold clicked my phone shut quietly, "if not Mike, then…" he spoke so slowly, so gently. He grabbed my hand, plopping the phone back in it. "Who?"

"I'm…" I swallowed, watching my son dance the best way an 8 year old knew how. The cause of the sea, in it's truth. I was not the kind of woman who danced in public places until Luke. "I'm not sure."

* * *

 _a/n hey y'all_

 _in other news .. i've been like annoyingly hard on myself lately. i'm thinking about moving this fic and a couple others to just my tumblr or maybe another platform...i haven't made up my mind yet, and ill certainly try and let people know where i'm positng. but if you'd really like to be in the update loop of where i'm gonna post...let me know in someway, reach out on here or on my tumblr which is ps118daily._

 _xx, k._


	12. Chapter 12

"Helga," Arnold reached for my wrist gently, "are you oka-"

"YEA." I stumbled backwards, feeling my mouth foam up with inevitable word vomit, "I am fine, body wise. And my son is-" I hacked, "there." I pointed in the wrong direction. I actually pointed at a plastic pig nearly the size of my son with a chef's hat and a smile with paint chipping off, "and my life is." I tousled my hair, "life. And I'm." My eyes met Arnold's, concerned, his mouth crumpled, "Water?"

He nodded quickly, "we can do that."

He turned around, presumably to collect our children.

I kicked the pig. Fuck everything, but fuck Porky from Bart's Meat Emporium in particular.

* * *

Arnold left me sitting on a picnic table, and took our kids to that giant thing that flung you around in circles and you either played the 'try not to puke' or 'try not to get puked on' game. I sat on the table because someone left a hot dog, and now a family of ants was attempting to collect it, piece by tiny piece. I moved to kill them when we found it, but Arnold's annoying ass face looked very sad about it. I was going to kill them anyway, but Rosie stuck out a tiny hand, fascinated with them, watching them crawl over her tiny fingers. She brought them up close to her face, watching their six legs put in extraneous work as they circled confusedly.

So they lived, and I sat cross-legged on the table.

I could have killed them after they left, but curiously, I didn't. I watched them, enormous village effort over a goddamned hotdog. Couldn't they at least have taste?

It was hardest to disappear when you wanted to. Like a massive game of hide and seek with yourself and fate. I sat in the madness, the ferris wheel a stone's throw away, grease smell permeating the entire air supply, wood scraping at my ankles. I would have very much liked to have taken my son, and sunk thoroughly into the wood work of the table, into the forest, out of Hillwood.

I saw her before she saw me. She was looking around, snack food in one hand, squinty little face on. Her hair was pulled back in tight braids, she had on a crop top and she wore heat well, it glistened on her cheek in the least unattractive way I had ever seen sweat.

Timberly caught my eye, caught me staring at her, and her white teeth shone even in the dark when she smiled.

I threw myself over the back of the table, rolling from the bench to the ground. I saw her boots crunching up the grass as she walked towards me anyway, and thought maybe if I hid under the table she would go away.

I settled for giving up, letting myself lay on the ground with apathy, eyes shut, as her footsteps neared.

"Arnold sent you?"

She snorted.

"How'd you know?"

"You did that blood hound squint." I was referring to the one that indicated you weren't looking at something, but for something.

A beat.

"And it's Arnold." I opened my eyes to see her smiling down at me.

She held out her hand, "it IS Arnold." She added as I grabbed her hand, hoisting me to my feet.

On solid ground, I sort of just stared around. I didn't know exactly what we were supposed to do next. Were we gal pals now? Were we going to have some sort of gal pal pow wow? Has that phrase been uttered by anyone except myself in the last ten years?

"So," she sat on the bench that wasn't covered in ants. I know it wasn't intentional, and couldn't have been done on purpose, but she made me feel like a goddamn idiot. "Not Mike, huh?"

My body mimicked my mental slump as I fell into the bench. "No." I put my chin in my palm grumpily. "I suppose it's not." I rubbed my hand on my face. "I always said it was a 2/3 shot it was his. But that leaves the other third."

"Which is?" She prompted.

I stared at the wood work in the table. The swirls of the wood, the way it felt like it always repeated even though I knew it never did. I ran my finger along them. We sat in silence for a moment, and she let me drag my fingertips in the wood under the stars. With the grease smell.

"Aliens." I explained calmly.

"Helga, what?!"

"I got trashed." I resigned tiredly, "because I got in a stupid fight with Mike, and then my parents. And I went to a party and got super trashed and…" I looked over, trying to find a reason to lie to Timberly's somber face. "Well, a month later."  
"And you don't remember a thing?"

"Woke up nude." I shrugged, scratching my head with my blunt fingernails. Manicures and myself just were never gal pals who had pow wows.

"So you were raped?" She insinuated. I blanched. I didn't know what to call it. If whoever the mystical He was was sober, then yes, indefinitely.

"I have reason to believe that he, whoever it was, was completely hammered, too."

"Do you?"

"He was gone when I woke up…" she slumped, further, tucking her arms under her to rest her head on. Fair air smelled terrible. Like sweaty kids and grease and a tinge of popcorn. "And so was his shirt and underwear." I furrowed my eyebrows. "But…" I rubbed my nose. "I wore his pants home."

"…he left his pants?"

"I think he didn't fall asleep after, just put on a shirt and left."

"Well…" Timberly frowned, shrugging, "silver lining: now you have something left of him."

I couldn't help it, I laughed.

"Fantastic," I put my head down towards the table, talking to my arms. The hair on them was soft. "Here, Luke. The Mystical Legacy Pants. Your dad wanted you to have them."

She laughed too, a strong, melodic, warming sound. It sept in my shoulders in a contrast to the raking humidity of the summer air, the kind of warmth I welcomed.

"Well, where are they from?" She asked as I brought my head back up. "That would be a good first hint."

"God, I don't even know. I have them, but they're at my sister's house in San Francisco." There were kids in front of us now, fighting over funnel cake. I remembered seeing that kind of shit before I had a kid, using that as rational reasoning to never reproduce.

"Do you even want to know?"

"I don't think so." I replied bluntly. "Imagine having to explain to your spawn that he came from Ben Douglass, or like, Si-

"Sid," we said in unison. I knew she must have been thinking it too. He was one of the few kids, save for Mike, from our class with any sort of resemblance to Luke. "Oh god, where even is he now?"

"I think he lives with Stinky…"

"How do they sustain themselves?"

"I'm sure everyone would like to know."

"Fucking chri-" The rest of what I said was muffled by me running my hands over my face again. "Of course," I wiggled around, sitting up, finally. "Genetics can be such a crap-shoot. It could be just about anybody."

Arnold and our kids, Rosie carried on his hip, appeared around the corner. Matt looked a little green, and Luke was letting him lean on him.

"Anybody," I repeated slowly, with consideration, staring at him.

"Impossible." Timberly shot me out of the sky before I got to the sun. "Anyone, but my brother and him. Trust me, I would have heard about it."

"Why couldn't it be Gera-"

She didn't let me finish my sentence, just forcefully grabbed our forearms for comparison. I knew it was an absolutely ridiculous comparison to make, but I did not want my kid's dad to be Sid. It was terrifying.

"And as far as him goes," she jerked her head in his direction. "There is no amount of smashed he could be that he wouldn't have remembered it. Dear God, the way the boy could ramble about you-"

"Hey guys," Arnold interrupted her as he lead the tiny train to the table, "how's everything?"

"We're good, but these mozz sticks ain't!" Tim covered, "I'm about ta start a straight up fight with Mr. Whoever-he-is behind the-"  
I tried to stay in the conversation, but Timberly's previous words kept swirling around me.

Had I known, then? I couldn't remember. Some part of me must have. I was too fucking observant not to. Why hadn't I…well for fairly obvious reasons, I supposed. Disinterest probably being the main one. Or…I don't know. It was so long ago, and I was in such a bad place for all of it.

Luke came and sat beside me.

I ruffled his hair, and thought to myself that it really didn't matter anymore. I left my hand on his head, tapping gently on his scalp. He smiled up at me.

When I looked out to everyone else, Arnold was staring at me with an inquisitive look, one that I knew asked if I was okay. Which I didn't have an answer for, so I very maturely just looked okay.

I thought to myself if there was one thing that well and truly sucked about being an adult with a child is that you don't really get the option to be not okay.

"Well," Arnold whistled, "look who I spy?"

"The pig in the chef's hat?"

"What?!" Arnold looked more annoyed at himself for being surprised rather than surprised itself, "Never-mind. I see Phoebe." I stood up quickly, squinting in the dark. The bloodhound squint, if you will.

"There she is," I leaned forward, pushing up on my hands and then stepping on to the table, "look at her, that scoundrel. Looking tiny and cute." Luke already had his hands on the table to join me, "don't stand on tables, kids." Luke listened, but crossed his arms with a pout. "Do you see B-T?"

"B-T?" Arnold asked.

"Boy Toy, God, Arnold, it's like you don't know our basic code names."

"Helga, we never made up code-names?"

"WHY," Luke interrupted "am I not allowed to be on the table?"

"You're short."

"That is a reason why I SHOULD be allowed on the table."

"Logic is also illegal for short people." I shouldn't have looked away- Phoebe had retrieved whatever gross item of food she was looking to get and was wandering away from the truck."BLUE JAY IS FLYING THE COOP," I wanted to jump from the table to the grass, maybe do a forward roll. But I had horrible visions about a future with a broken foot. And so I, gingerly, and clumsily, stepped down to the bench and to the grass. "Golden Eagle and Other Eagle with Sprogs in tow is in pursuit!"

Matt timidly grabbed the hem of my shirt, "can I have a code name?"

"You have one." I grabbed his shoulder and charged forward, "you are a sprog. An excellent thing to be." I hoped Arnold in turn grabbed my kid and followed behind me, but I couldn't risk my street cred to look back and check. Okay, never-mind- I still had my street cred, but I also knew that Luke had Arnold by the wrist and was dragging him along behind us, while he laughed. Timberly had Rosie in her lap.

"Bye, crazies!" She yelled after us, "I'm taking Rosie to the bouncy castle!"

* * *

She and whoever she was with who I couldn't see in the dark were moving towards a line that we couldn't get in and have any good spying territory. "Hold it boys," I held out my arm, collecting the three before they rushed passed me "we're going to have to go off-road." K

Arnold took my arm, and gently pushed it back into my side. "PHOEBE!" He called with a friendly voice, waving in her direction, "what's up?!"

Arnold ruined many of my spying missions. I crossed my arms, glaring at him with a petulant look. I looked down and realized I was wearing a very similar look to my son, and promptly shook it off my body.

Phoebe had just barely made it to the entrance of the line when she heard his call. She turned around, spotting us with a surprised smile, and grabbed the arm of the person in front of her to join her. They politely made their way back to us, while we awkwardly paraded forward.

"Phoebe, hey!" She had on a t-shirt that looked slouchy on her in a very cute way, versus me who those tshirts made it look like I hadn't gotten dressed. I put my hands on Luke's shoulders. He gave me an annoyed look which I ignored, which I had the right to as the Mom.

"Hi guys!" She greeted cheerfully, with an especially big smile to Arnold, "this is my friend, Erin."

The person we had so dutifully been stalking was, in fact, female, with short cropped hair and two big front teeth. She held out her hand for us to shake.

"Erin, this is Helga, my high school best friend, and Arnold, who is…" she struggled to find a way to describe her relationship with him.

He covered for her beautifully, "we go way back," he had a good handshake, I noticed. His hands were big now. I wondered why I still thought his hands were that of a kind, but little elf man who made cookies in trees. Even standing there now, years apart, it was still hard to distinguish him as him and not the guy who probably did make cookies in trees in high school, for all I knew.

"I thought you were coming with…"

"Oh," Phoebe blinked. "Uh, Scott?" She swallowed, brushing her hair off her neck with a lick of her lips, "I actually broke it off this afternoon."

I looked at Arnold with excitement. He had the art of subtly far further mastered than I did.

"I just didn't-" I looked back to Phoebe quickly, "didn't think we were headed in the right direction, that's all. But nights out with friends is just as great!" She grinned at Erin, "and I'm glad you two made it out," I felt like she just said that to Arnold, and my insides were stirring.

"Me too!" Piped in Matt, of all people. "Can we have ice cream now?"

* * *

a/n *gentle rhythm* leaaaave me a coooomment im verrry looonely


	13. Chapter 13

"Spackle," I explained quietly, calmly, to my son as we sat on the floor with our legs crossed on this table cloth I thought was horrendous enough to use as a paint drop, "is a gentle, delicate beast," I stirred it, holding it up at the light. "It must be used often," I let some trip off the little wielder I had for it, "but with great care." I felt like a great craftsman, using the little flat edger I had in my hand. Like a gentle pixie with a wand, and not a 20-something in flannel.

"So, you haven't spackled anything before either?" Luke asked innocently. I gave him a flat look, splitting him into little kid giggles. The sound used to annoy me, but now it just added heat to my face, bubbles in my own chest. Laughter bubbles…not like, gas.

"Why don't we ask Arnold how to do this?" My son asked, putting his chin in his hand.

"Because we don't need men-" I was going to tell my son we don't need men for anything. Then I remembered he is a tiny, little man in training. A Puppy Man. "en-trained professiona-, okay, nope. Need those too. Uh-" Luke blinked at me. "Because spackle doesn't like Arnold." I told him finally.

"Really." He asked flatly.

"Yeah, it told me." I nodded solemnly.

Luke nodded solemnly. We stared at each other. I was running out of game ideas. In fact, I had no idea what kind of bullshit logic told me that spackle was a suitable game idea.

"So…" Luke hummed, "can I invite Matt over?"

"Is this a trick so you can get Arnold to show you how spackle works?" I actually knew Arnold couldn't be at our house at the moment. He did have a job. Like I did, but he couldn't do his job at 2 in the morning with surplus wine and the indulgent of many cheese crackers.

"No," Luke fiddled with his shoelaces. Boy needed a haircut real bad, It was hanging in his face, growing past his ears, the thick, dark waves. "Me and Matt are building something."

I sighed. "I'll text Lila, how about that? Go… pick up your room." I said as I stood up, offering a hand down to Luke with a forlorn glance at the amount of holes and small dents left in our wall that I had not managed to best with spackle. That was a lie, about texting Lila. I was currently ignoring Lila. Because she decided we were the kind of friends that text each other Buzzfeed articles and pinterest things. I didn't know much in this life, but I DID know that Lila's favorite animal, according to her favorite foods, was a sheep. Thank the fucking Lord.

"My room is clean." He had a furrowed brow.

"Have you windexed the windows?"

"Yes."

"Have you swept under the bed?"

"Two days ago."

FUCK kid, who's fucking kid are you anyway? CLEARLY not mine, and we must have gotten mixed up at the hospital. I would have taken this idea more seriously if the blue eyes staring back at me weren't a carbon copy of my own. Because I highly doubted babies, and children, of course, were that adept at color contacts.

"Go read a thing."

"A thing?"

"Many things." I told him vaguely. "All things." Please, child. I love you more than anything that exists and I would choose you over everything, but please, go find a way to entertain yourself.

He looked ready to argue with me, but then he shook his head and turned to head upstairs. Hopefully he did manage to read all things.

My phone buzzed. In what way had I managed to give Lila the impression that I was ever in my life going to be the kind of person who cuts oranges into shapes for children? I almost wanted to ask her, so I could knock whatever sort of behavior that was the hell off.

I texted her quickly, with a graceful, and eloquent, where are the kids at text. I thought about texting an orange emoji for the sake of politeness, but decided any encouragement of that habit was just too risky.

My phone was ringing then. Since when was it common etiquette to call people after a simple text message? Lila was arguably the most exhausting person that ever existed. Except like, politicians. And the Kool-Aid Man.

"HELGA," She answered exuberantly. I winced and held my phone a few inches away from my face. "I was worried you weren't getting my texts!"

"Oh yeah," I felt SO caught! She was just going to call me out like this?! "Well, I'm afraid of oranges, so…"

"What?"

"Where are the kids at?" I diverted, like the smooth-ass quick thinker I was.

"Uhm, with the babysitter."

"The babysitter?" Babysitter was arguably one of the worst terms in the world. The least coherent. Or maybe the definition of babysitting had drastically changed. Or the first people to acquire a babysitter had some weird-ass family values.

"She's young. Nice, I think." Lila explained as if I had asked for a character profile of said babysitter. "19? 20? Maybe? Summer job. All that. Got strong elbows." Lila, in all her faults, made a concerted effort to see the best in people. "They're, if I have any guess, probably at his parent's house."

"Where are Stella and Miles?"

"Puerto Vallarta," she replied, "something on about the effects of tourism on natural-"

Cool, but I don't care, I thought to myself "alright well," I interrupted. "Tell her she's off the hook, I'm coming for the kids."

"Arnold doesn't really plan to be off till late tonight," Lila warned me carefully, "after physical work today he's got a consultation at 5 and a meeting with a development committee at a bar after." She was reading from some, Helga was sure, neatly organized paper. I wouldn't call it unlikely that a majority of it was filled out with glitter gel pen.

"Yes well," I waved Luke down from the top of the bannister, pointing to my shoes in a signal for him to put shoes on. "He knows where I live."

"Right, let me just pencil this in real quickly: let Arnold know, children have been yet again kidnapped…"

I wanted to be mad, but I snorted. Luke did not pick up my shoe message, he was still watching me curiously. I did this odd, hopping dance thing, while pointing at my feet. His confusion grew.

"Just call me a public endangerment," I told her with a grin.

"Oh, Helga…" she replied sympathetically, "we already do that."

* * *

When I pulled up the kids were outside. Matt had a backwards Star Wars helmet on his head and held a make shift bow in his hand made out of a stick and some yarn. Rosie was wearing a tutu over top of a teenage mutant ninja turtle costume. She had what appeared to be a tiny slingshot. It was some of my favorite looks I've seen on the kids.

They had curious little faces as I got out of the car, and then opened the door for Luke.

"HEY GUYS!" Luke shouted as he basically popped out of my car.

Matthew's face lit up immediately "ARE WE GETTING KIDNAPPED AGAIN?" He yelled with excitement.

I really had to teach these kids: a. kidnapping was not something to actually show enthusiasm for, and b. nor was it something to shout about in suburban neighborhoods.

"Where's the babysitter?" I asked, looking around the lawn for her.

"I dunno." Matt shrugged. Beautiful display of child care, yet again, Arnold really knew how to pick 'em.

"Busy," added Rose, "we're playing the game, you be the gobument?"

"They're the bad guys." Matt added solemnly. It was only then I realized the word Rosie delightfully garbled was government- and I didn't know what was sadder, that I only realized it then, or that they were the bad guys in the first place.

"I'm gonna go check on Sarah," I put a hand on Luke's head, ruffling his hair a little bit. "Watch for cars, please."

"Okay," Matt shrugged. Luke had run off, likely, foraging for a weapon.

"Wait, is that really her name?" I asked as I made for the house again. Matt shrugged again. Sarah was doing a brilliant job, really.

* * *

"Sarah," I called in a sing-songy way as I walked through their cluttered entry way. Papers on one table, blueprints taking up the entirety of a coffee table, the floor being mostly claimed by toys. "Mackeeeenziieee," I trotted up the stairs, aware for the first time I had never really been in this house. "Jessicaaaa-" It had to be one of these names. They were such babysitter names. I passed by what had to be Matt's room, then clearly Rosie's. I was starting to give up faith that Rebecca was even here, before I realized a light was on at the corner at the hall, a creaked door barely open.

Ashley was sitting on the floor of the room, surrounded by something that I certainly didn't know what it was but I knew it was none of her goddamn business. She had her headphones in, dark hair in a pony tail on the back of her head, lightly bopping to the beat of Justin Direction, or whatever.

I saw something familiar, just behind her by the door. The room had to have been Arnold's. It was too small to be a masters and too large to be anything else. I picked up the copy of our class photo. Ours was a term used lightly, as I did not attend the photoshoot. .

"HEY," I shouted over the music "SAMANTHA."

She jumped up, scrambling to her feet, looking defensive. She stepped over the documents, grabbing the edge of the bed frame, holding out her hands warily. "MY HUSBAND IS IN THE SHOWER." She shouted at me, fear cracking her tough exterior.

"Girl," I wrinkled my face up with confusion, "what?"

She looked a little older than Lila had mentioned she was, but just barely. She had a little face, small eyes, and thin appendages. Her hair was brown, but she clearly didn't want it to be, and she had this somewhat tacky, blunt attempt at an ombre effect in her hair. The ear buds she had ripped out of her ears were sitting on the floor, poppy sounds still floating out of them. Made my foot tap involuntarily. I fucking hated pop music, it was like that one spot you could scratch a dog and its foot would wiggle in the most undignified way- except on people.

"Did Lila not call you? I'm here for the kids. My kid is pals with them…a real three musketeers they've become." I told her, eying the piles she had made on the floor. Old pictures, documents. Definitely not things that were hers. "You have an interesting babysitting technique."

"Please don't tell Mr. Shortman." She asked me carefully, looking like she wanted to jump out of the window.

"Mr. Who?" I asked as I picked up a pile. Pictures from high school, what could be better.

"Their Dad?" She asked, squinting at me, just questioning my story for the first time. Which she should have had more doubt about, frankly. We all should have gotten on that "password" thing.

"Oh, right. Shorty," I snorted, "I forgot about that." I walked over, grinning at the picture in my hand of when Arnold was quite short, at least in comparison to Gerald and Stinky. "You should be more careful, I could have been anybody."

"No, you couldn't have been." She replied, staring at me.

"How's that?" I asked, laughing at the picture of Gerald and Phoebe after their senior homecoming. I wasn't sure if I had ever saw Gerald so happy. Except, maybe, the one time we dipped oreos in peanutbutter before putting them in an smores and he cried about it.

"Uh," she shuffled forward, grabbing another photo of the ground awkwardly, "because of this one," she handed me a photo. She had many dangling bracelets on. I wasn't sure I understood that trend. Couldn't you make the statement you were trying to make, that she was trying too hard, with one dangling bracelet? Was multiples really necessary?

The photo was Arnold, still just barely my height, in front of a Christmas tree. With me and my parents. That was a strange Christmas. I had almost entirely forgotten about it. I sat there with it in my hands, wondering how deep my self awareness was at the time. Had I known about Arnold and wanted to rub it in? Had I not?

We, at the time, were so physically incompatible. It seemed like my biceps were bigger than his thighs, although I'm sure that was a bit of an overreaction. We didn't look like a couple at all. Probably because we weren't really.

"Are you her sister, then?" Caitlin asked, quietly, sitting next to me on the bed.

"Who's sister?" she had a photo of Meredith in her hands. "No." I replied quickly. Couldn't be further from it if she had a picture of Gerald in her hands.

"You look a little bit like…"

"Actually, she looks like me, but that's beside the point." I straightened up, reaching over to pluck the picture out of her hands. "Now, tell me what you were doing with all of this and not watching the kids?" I felt like a boss ass bitch as I knew I intimidated her by not looking at her as I strutted away to recollect all the photos and documents on the floor. I spied an open box by her cabinet, must have been her source.

"I was just curio-"

"Ah, yes. As we all know the saying goes, curiosity killed the children." I gave her a blunt stare. I shuffled the photo of me to the back of the pile, which had nothing to do with me and Arnold and everything to do with the fact I had this god-awful hairstyle going on. It was almost like I killed and subsequently skinned a muppet, and then decided to wear it's hair as a prize and a show of dominance to all the other muppets.

She licked her lips, "fine." She straightened her shoulders, stood up in a way that annoyed me when literally anyone did it let alone little Miss Nancy Drew over here, "I was planning on asking Mr….Arnold, out." She picked up the box with haughty little posture, as if she'd really like me to examine her figure in her little leggings, "and I was just trying to figure out if I had waited an appropriate amount of time after…" she swallowed while setting the box on the bed, "his wife."

"You?" I tried really hard not to snort, so the word itself came out kind of like a snort. Like a pig that learned English and got it's own Animal Planet special, "Are planning on asking out Mr. Arnold?"

"Arnold." She said more confidently, holding out her hands for what she took out of the box. I tried not to roll my eyes as I handed them to her. "I've been thinking about it for a long time. I think we could be good for each other."

"How old even are you?"

"22."

"Really," I replied dead-panned at her. I would have been more inclined to believe her if she said she were an astronaut with special information that said Arnold was an alien. "What year were you born?"

She blinked, "1994."

"Bullshit," I called it plainly. "You had to think too long about that," I picked up the other pile. "How old are you really?" I shuffled through the photos in my hand, wanting a specific one. One had to have, because I knew he had it somewhere. I just hoped it was in that pile, and not lost in the sands of time. Or winds of time. Whatever. Whatever blank of time you wanted to call it, I hoped it wasn't there.

"How is it," she commented breathily, neatly organizing the box, "any of your business?"

"Because, darling," I victoriously placed the photo on top, snarkily offering Kim the pile, "you want to get to Arnold, you're gonna have to go through me." Which were big words for someone who had just reentered his life a solid month ago. But I had a tendency to talk big when bitches were annoying me, and I was here now, wasn't I? I had this twisted, smug smile on my face as I watched her register the photo in front of her. The one of me, Arnold and Meredith, on the day I introduced them.

"I'm taking the kids now," I told her as I turned around. "Turn out the lights, lock up, and" the smile was still stretched out on my face as I turned back around, "please go be creepy somewhere else, Katie."

"My name isn't-"

"Yeah, I don't care," I shut the door behind me.

* * *

I had Rosie on my hip and the boys on either side of me as we strut into the Big Al's. Luke was going over a detailed milkshake dissertation. Milkshakes were serious business, I understood him.

"AJ," I shouted over the clamber of the diner, "GET THE ICE CREAM OUT NOW," I called my fair warning as I pointed Luke in the direction of a booth. Sure we weren't able to bother Aj as easily this way, but I had to think about Rosie. My kid could barely stay on a stool, let alone a kid her age. I sat them down, checking my phone again. It was almost 8 p.m. and I hadn't heard from Lila or Arnold. Which wasn't too big of a deal, because they told me they were busy tonight and I took the kids anyway because admittedly I had no idea what to do with Luke that didn't involve spackle. We had built a large nest in the middle of the floor of our living room to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on, grabbing blankets and pillows and whatever we could find and just dumping them into the room. Worst comes to worst, I supposed there was no real reason we couldn't sleep there. Rosie was barely staying upright in the booth.

"Yeah, yeah, Pataki-" he walked backwards through the push doors, then carried a large tray directly to a table on the opposite side of the room. "I knew you were comin', the glasses of water started rippling."

I snorted as the boys started deliberating qualities of milkshakes.

"How about," I suggested, leaning forward, running my hand through Rosie's soft hair. "You get two different ones and share." I loved suggesting perfectly logical stuff to children, because the look on their faces suggested I might have well executed the moon landing. Like it was the best fucking idea they had ever heard. "We'll share one, how's that?" I said just to Rose. She nodded with a yawn.

"Alright, now that you're done terrorizing the village people what can I get y-" AJ looked up at my gang for the first time, "dear god," He said with a terrified whisper "they've multiplied."

"Ugh, I WISH," Luke groaned, putting his chin in his hand, "wouldn't that be AWESOME?"

"Uh," AJ muttered, "I think I'm gonna go with a hard pass on that one."

I let the boys annoy him as I checked my phone again. FINALLY a text from Arnold.

"I'm leaving the bar," it read, "but I think I'm gonna have Lila come pick up the kids. I think there's something going on here you'd want to see."

* * *

 _a/n hi y'all if this doesn't post like normal like the last one didnt i think ill LoSe my mind but SHOUTOUT if u got 2 chapters to read today!_

 _next week i'm going to post part one of the two shot prequel (!) for this fic. it'll be called Rule 1 & 1/2 and it'll be posted on wednesday or probably thursday morning by my standards. if you want to read that uh idk if there's a way to get a notification, other than just following me as an author. but yes! that'll be #fun ! but it's only a 2 shot because... clearly you know how it's going to end, lol._

 _ok thank u for reading & i love u so much if u leave reviews or send me messages u make the world turn ya really do and it helps me stay motivated._

 _cheers! xx k._


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